


Never Alone

by Neocolai



Series: Never Alone [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Ezra-feels, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash, Poor Kanan, Whump, also on fanfiction.net, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 31,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4034530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neocolai/pseuds/Neocolai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Loyalty told him to wait for Kanan. Hope whispered that help was on the way. The Force urged him to hang on a little longer. Logic reminded him that he was on his own." After the Inquisitor's death, the Empire is all the more determined to capture the Lothal Rebels. Darth Vader has a subtler motivation for his interest in Ezra Bridger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_"I've been on my own since I was seven, okay? If I'd let myself believe my folks were alive, if I let myself believe they'd come back and save me, I'd never have learned how to survive."_

― _Ezra Bridger_

* * *

Loyalty told him to wait for Kanan.

Hope whispered that help was on the way.

The Force urged him to hang on a little longer.

Logic reminded him that he was on his own.

"Duracrete walls aren't moving by themselves," Ezra muttered, thunking his chin on his folded arms. "Come on, come get me. I'm ready."

Four feet of space in the cell. Six walls boxing him into a wad of aching muscles. No light, no sound; not even the scrape of droids rolling by.

"Just open the door." He'd never wanted to see a storm trooper so badly. "I'll show you what happens when you capture a Jedi. You think my helmets are just for show?"  _Thunk. Thunk._  How many hours had passed?

"They'd better know what protein bars are around here."  _Thunk. Thunk._  His teeth were starting to clack in time with his chin. Had it been that long since breakfast? "Kanan, I take everything back. Just show up with a caf and a roba sausage and I'll never doubt you guys again."

_Thunk. Clack._

He'd tried sleeping once. The stiffness in his neck had doubled into a lancing throb. His back was going to be crippled soon, he knew it, and his legs would fall off if they were numb for much longer.

"Sabine, if I let you paint my room will you at least pull me out of here so I can watch you do it?" Did he really say that out loud? This had to be a dream. A dark, ongoing nightmare filled with his own voice and impenetrable silence.

He started listing off breakfast foods he expected as soon as he got out of this mess. He'd already finished the dessert menu hours ago (days ago, naptimes ago, filled with knifing cramps and illusions of escape that ended in the same dark cell), and he had sworn for just a moment that he'd been arguing with Zeb whether blatberry pie or dew cake was the better choice for after dinner. Did Hera really bake in that dream?

An image of Sabine taking the cake from his hands and stabbing it full of model storm troopers woke Ezra with a sense of despair. His head lolled violently and he yelled in frustration, scrubbing his palms against his forehead.

_Can't fall asleep. You have to be ready to run._

He was so tired of dreaming he was back on the Ghost. Everything was warped in this cell. Hera made out with the Inquisitor. Sabine spray painted all of Ezra's helmets, and when he turned to look for them they had vanished. Zeb announced he was stealing the Ghost and turned all the lights off. Kanan patted Ezra on the back, and suddenly he was falling, shoved from the entry plank, watching the ship leave without him.

Logic reminded Ezra that he was on his own.

The Force whispered back, but it was so distant that he couldn't hear it.

Hope seemed like every childhood dream he had given up.

Loyalty made him wonder if he was the only one who cared about his friends.

Light spilling into the cell told him he had been wrong all along.

"I've got you, Kid."

Gentle hands unfolding his stiff limbs, shielding his eyes from the terrible white light, assured him that Kanan had never abandoned him. 


	2. Chosen Heir

"If this is what happens before Hera has her morning cafe, I'm safer with the Empire."

"Shut up and finish the job, kid. The sooner we get done the sooner I ditch you with the droid."

"He's watching  _both_  of us."

"Are you two going to keep this up all day?" Rolling her eyes, Sabine tossed a metal brush at Ezra, snorting when it bounced off his head.

"This is not punishment," Ezra griped, snatching up the scrubbing tool. "This is torture. Scraping out the radiators I can understand, but cleaning the exhaust vents? What'd we do to make her mad, anyways?"

"We? You're the one who antagonized her!" Zeb rallied.

"I just asked her a  _question_." Slapping a greasy rag onto the vent, Ezra dug it into the carbon-encrusted grooves. "I mean, it's obvious something's been set up between her and Kanan."

"Kid, one day you're going to get smeared across the starboard shaft, and I won't be mopping up your remains."

"Thank you, Zeb, I always appreciate your vote of confidence."

Sabine casually stepped between them. "When you're finished battering each other's egos, Kanan has a mission for us."

"One that doesn't involve space fungus, I hope?"

"Nah." Sabine smirked at Ezra. "He just wants you to clean the mushroom spores off the base radiators."

"Zeb, punch me."

* * *

"It's a routine op," Kanan explained briefly, drawing his finger along the forest map. "Get in, find the target, get out."

"Which always works so well," Ezra muttered.

"If you have anything  _useful_  to say, I suggest you add your comment now."

Hera jabbed Kanan in the ribs. "Ease up; you've been grumpy all day."

"Says the one who grounded two crew members in the aft deck."

"See, they're obviously having a domestic," Ezra whispered to Sabine. "Ow! What was that for?"

Duo glares from Kanan and Hera promised mushroom spores would be the kinder punishment. Clearing his throat, Ezra scrutinized the map and pointed to the docking bay. "So, get in, find the target, get out. Nice and simple. When do we start?"

Kanan smirked. "By the time you two finish the exhaust vents, we'll be there."

* * *

"You really intend to capture them yourself, Lord Vader?" Kallus perused the data listed for the Lasat rebel, moving down to the elusive Master Jarrus. "I can assure you that my men will give their full assistance, however, you may be underestimating these rogues. Not even the Inquisitor was successful."

"Your incompetence does not concern me." Darth Vader's blatant dismissal was rattling. "The Emperor has sent me to end the rebellion."

"With all due respect," Kallus defended, "Not even a Star Destroyer could stop them."

"Then perhaps your efforts are not as radical as the Emperor perceived."

Kallus swallowed thickly, his jaw set. "I have been making every possible attempt to –"

"And yet you have failed."

Kallus' gloves squeaked behind his back. Leave it to the impervious 'Emperor's Right Hand' to disparage him before his officers. After all that he had worked towards, Darth Vader may as well have demoted him to lieutenant.

"The Rebels will be brought before you," Kallus said tightly. "I will personally deliver their charred bodies, if need be."

"Don't irrationalize the situation, Kallus. I want them alive."

Nodding curtly, Kallus clipped his heels together and bowed. "It will be done, my lord."

He waved sharply for his officers and strode from the room, imagining momentarily that it was he who stood at the right hand of the Emperor, and the mechanical mouthpiece who served as his underling. If only Vader would die conveniently while on mission. Kallus would take to a promotion rather well.

Only when the doors slid shut behind the officers did Vader sweep a hand over the holograms, deactivating all but one. The reports about the boy were impressive. Half of the first-hand accounts were fictitious of course, built on elaborated legends that may as well have described a planetary deity rather than a Jedi initiate.

And yet, the Inquisitor had recurrently failed to deliver his quarry.

Dismissing the reports on theft, sabotage and treason, Darth Vader lingered on the crucial, subtle implications that the Inquisitor had deemed worthless.

Capable of not only surviving, but thriving against all odds.

Cheeky enough that he had once claimed that Emperor Palpatine was his uncle.

Born on the day the Empire was formed.

Exceptionally attuned to the force, even before his training began.

There was no irony in the narrow chin; the small mouth; the short stature that seemed so vulnerable, and yet bore the same iron will of the one who had captured Anakin Skywalker's affections. The hair could have been dyed, or perhaps there was a gene from Shmi's side of the family that attributed to the blue-black color. He certainly had inherited Sola's nose. As for the rest of the boy; flinty blue eyes, broad shoulders, and a recklessness to match his wit: there was only one possible conclusion.

The boy's parents were but a fabricated delusion, implanted by Obi-wan to conceal the truth.

Vader had not failed Padme entirely.

Her son would be raised as the heir to the Empire.

* * *

 **A.N.** Thank you to Skywalker05 who lent me this idea from the story  _Discovery,_ where Kanan and Hera wonder if Anakin Skywalker was Ezra's father.

I actually compared facial similarities from pictures of Anakin, Padme, Sola, and Shmi, and I'm convinced Ezra is the triplet Obi-wan hid on Lothal. Anyone notice how uncannily he tuned into the force during the beginning episodes? That's quite the display of power and concentration for someone who's just discovered they're force sensitive. Not even Luke was that good while Obi-wan was training him.

Of course, there are too many complications to try to squeeze that idea into "cannon" fiction, but I will never watch Rebels the same again. 


	3. White Petals

"I take it the chances of meeting a bucket head here is basically – yipe!"

Ezra's statement broke off in a tangle of broken vines and swearing. Zeb glanced down and guffawed, stepping languidly over the fallen apprentice.

"By all means, leave the flora when you're finished catching your beauty sleep."

"What kind of planet is this?" Ezra spluttered, spitting out mulch. "It's no wonder the Empire avoids it!"

"Raydonia's home to more species than you'll ever see in your lifetime, kid. Keep close or a reek might drag you away." Zeb cautiously poked his bo-rifle into the surrounding ferns, alerting a stream of rust-colored ground birds.

"There are no reeks here," Ezra said, brushing himself off. "All we've seen is plants, plants, and more plants. Why did Kanan pick this abandoned place?"

"Because there  _are_  rebels in the colony, even if it's remote. It's not their fault Raydonia is too far out on the Outer Rim."

"Wait, isn't Raydonia the planet that needs  _imported_  supplies?" Ezra pointed out. "What could they possibly offer us?"

"That."

Ezra followed the direction of Zeb's bo-rifle and whistled low. "All right, you win. I take it all back. There is nothing more imperative to the galaxy than a weedy fern."

"Not the plant, you idiot! The flower beside it!"

"Oh, this?" Ezra shrugged and bent to cup the tiny white flower. "It's not so –"

"Don't pluck it!" Zeb roughly shoved him aside, then knelt to ensure the petals were intact. "Contact Kanan. He'll know how to extract it."

"It's a garden herb," Ezra deadpanned. "I've seen those on Lothal all the time."

"This is no ordinary plant," Zeb insisted. "It's a frudal flower."

"A  _frudal flower_?" Ezra glared pointedly and reached out to brush one of the leaves.

"Hey, I said don't touch it!"

"So what's it used for?" Ezra asked, lethargically activating his com. "Hera's favorite tea? Paint remover for the ship? Droid oil?"

"Force inhibitor," Zeb said shortly.

Ezra nearly dropped the com. "We're Jedi and we're scavenging for something that blocks off the  _force_?"

"It was Kanan's idea." Zeb's shoulders dropped uncomfortably. "You know what happened with the Inquisitor."

"Yeah, like I can forget  _that_." Absently Ezra rubbed his cheek. "Who is it for, then?"

"The Fulcrum is concerned we'll have bigger hunters on our trail. Seems your reputation is preceding you, kid."

"Kanan started it! He was the one showing off the fancy lightsaber moves."

"And you stole his sword."

"He practically let me pickpocket him – twice!"

"Makes you wonder why the Empire wants you so badly."

Chewing his lip, Ezra chose not to comment. Maybe a weedy plant was imperative to the galaxy after all. "Are we selling it?"

"Nope. Sabine's got a plan for a bioweapon."

"Which is perfectly safe and stable because…."

"Because if we release it on an Imperial Starship, it might just target Darth Vader."

"I'm in!" Excitedly Ezra grabbed for the plant, scowling when his hand was slapped away.

"Wait for Kanan to extract it!" Zeb snapped. "If you bruise the leaves, the flowers will be worthless!"

"You can't even pick it?" Ezra flung out his arms in dismay. "We've stumbled through fifty miles of jungle, you know. Do you realize how many flowers we might have  _crushed_  along the way?"

Zeb groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Karabast, kid, shut up. Just contact Kanan so we can get out of here."

"He already did," Kanan's voice pinged from the communicator. "Ezra, don't touch the flower. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"This is the lamest mission ever." Ezra plopped onto the ground and folded his arms, looking around for any more of the elusive blossoms.

Zeb rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath about 'kids' and 'Karabast' and longer words that Hera probably didn't want Ezra to hear. Abruptly the Lasat straightened, peering into the bloodied clouds above the forest.

"Kid… you're in luck. I think the mission's about to get a whole lot more interesting."

"What?" Rising quickly, Ezra squinted at the patch of red sky. "I don't see –"

The blast from behind sent him rolling into the foliage. Zeb cursed foully, bo-rifle already swinging at the descending Tie. Hampered by the enclosed forest, the Fighter nicked a tree, twirled over Ezra's head, and slammed into a net of vines some meters ahead.

"Move, kid!"

Ezra was already on his feet, lightsaber alternating between saber and blaster as ground troops converged from the sides. "Where did they come from?"

"Does it matter?" Slamming a stormtrooper into a trunk, Zeb crumpled the helmet of another and flung Ezra outside of the circle. "Keep going!" He bouldered through the throng, troopers scattering under his bo-rifle.

Only when he was sure the Lasat was beside him did Ezra start running. Scarlet bolts pelted the leaves around them. Every tree seemed to conceal a camouflaged soldier; every patch of sky held a waiting Tie. Ezra yelped when his foot tangled in the same sticky vines that had tripped him earlier.

 _Focus!_  his mind screamed.

"Spectre Six!" Kanan's voice rang from the com. "What is your position?"

"Uh, a little busy right now?" Ezra retorted.

"Spectre Two is nearing your coordinates. Find a sparse location; we'll pick you up."

"Where are you?" Leaping over a stormtrooper's head, Ezra shot the soldier behind him and force-pushed the first into a third.

"We'll be there! Get to open ground!"

"Right!" Ducking under Zeb's bo-rifle, Ezra swerved to block a Tie-Fighter's shots. He glanced hopefully at Zeb. "We can steal this one, can't we?"

"Do you want your head blow off?" Zeb howled. The electric threads of his bo-rifle caught the Tie's engines, incinerating the fighter in a cloud of arid smoke.

"So that's why Hera upkeeps the exhaust vents," Ezra noted with intrigue. He twisted his lightsaber under a trooper's arm, relieving the soldier of his blaster. "Hey, Spectre One, you coming?"

"Just … st… don't … get out…." Static drowned out the Jedi's voice.

"Spectre One?" Ezra dropped into a roll and raised his hand, flinging two of the troopers away.

… At least, that was  _supposed_  to happen.

A garish, sweet scent like fermented fruit sent his mind buzzing. Gagging, Ezra pressed his sleeve against his nose to block out the cloud of smoke and – was that a body rotting somewhere?

"Get down!"

Zeb's hand  _definitely_  left a bruise. Ezra made a mental note not to stand behind the Lasat again. Okay, maybe he was a little grateful he hadn't been blasted into Lothan goo, but … wait, what was he thinking?

Rubbing his eyes, Ezra lashed out a hand for his lightsaber.

It remained three feet ahead of him.

_What's happening?_

Something told Ezra he should be feeling alarmed. It wasn't a good sign when Zeb was hollering behind him, right? Confused, Ezra studied his inert lightsaber and tried again. Motionless. Raising his hand was supposed to do something; he just couldn't remember how.

"Kid….!"

That was supposed to be important, too – like the little white flower curling beside him. Feeling oddly sympathetic, Ezra trailed a finger along the wilting petals. The plant had been scorched from the roots up, and the remnants smelled like a decaying Loth-rat.

 _Hey, I touched it!_  he wanted to tell Zeb. It didn't seem important anymore.

Black boots thudded before Ezra's head. Squinting against the red glow, he made out the curve of a non-standard helmet.  _Wish I could add that one to my collection._

"Don't come," Ezra mumbled into the comlink. It was the only thing that made sense. "Don't follow us, Kanan."

He wondered if it was upsetting that Kanan didn't answer.

By the time gloved hands brutally gripped his arms and a crushing sense of darkness eradicated conscious thought, he could barely remember why this 'Kanan' was so important.


	4. Ambush

"Spectre Six! What's your position?"

"Uh, a little busy right now?" Ezra's response was shrill, distorted under the whine of blaster fire.

Kanan broke into a run, gesturing for Sabine to follow. The force was churning with distortion. Danger. Fear. Kanan hadn't felt this much urgency since the moment when the Inquisitor's blades spun towards Ezra.

_There shouldn't have been troopers here. There is nothing of value to the Empire._

Nothing save a handful of rebels and two Jedi.

How had they known?

"Spectre Two is nearing your coordinates," Kanan spoke into the com "Find a sparse location; we'll pick you up."

"How close are we?" he barked at Sabine.

"Less than an hundred meters. I'm picking up crossfire ahead."

Throwing out his senses, Kanan scouted for Ezra. The boy was holding strong, but the signatures of hundreds of stormtroopers indicated he and Zeb wouldn't have much longer.

It  _had_  been an ambush.

"Where are you?" Ezra's voice crackled with interference.

"Working on it," Sabine said, holding up her hands with a grenade tucked between each finger.

"We'll be there!" Kanan assured Ezra. "Get to open ground!"

_Get out of there, kid. The mission isn't worth your life._

It was more than the threat of capture or injury in the crossfire. They were being hunted.

"Grenades launching now," Sabine said. She leapt from a mulch covered log, blinking cylinders arching from her hands. Plumes of fire exploded, evaporating into blue mist. Armor clattered.

"Spectre Six, do you copy? Spectre Six!"

Too late Kanan recognized the heady scent of frudal flowers.  _Fire releases them…_  But they were only effective if the roots were crushed beforehand.

Head spinning, Kanan looked down on the array of wilting flowers. Pulverized roots bled beneath clusters that had been packed loosely in the ground; too many for such a rare plant.  _Trap … all along…_

"Kanan!" Sabine called worriedly.

"Go!" Kanan yanked on a trooper's helmet, forcing down the apathy that dragged on his limbs. "Find Ezra! It only affects the force-sensitive."

"What about you?"

"Now!"

She sprang from a trooper's shoulders and was instantly lost from sight. Pushing the force through his hazed mind, Kanan focused on the comlink.

"Just go… stay with Zeb… don't act stupid … get out…."

He stumbled against a tree, hoping Ezra had heard the message. The frudal flowers dulled the mind first, cutting off the force before lethargy claimed the body. Kanan hadn't even noticed when he could no longer sense his padawan.

A storm trooper stepped out of the smoke and Kanan stared at the blaster aimed at his chest. His lightsaber…. That was supposed to block energy bolts. Had he dropped it along the way?

He should have warned Hera.

As though hearing his last thoughts, the whirl of gunfire shrieked to Kanan's right. The concussion blast threw him backwards, decimating the front line of trees. Blinking sluggishly, Kanan focused on the wavering line of the ship. He knew that vessel. There was something important….

"Spectre One!" Hera's blurred form disbranched, and Kanan finally recognized that an arm was waving in his face. Dimly he tried to alert her.

"We have to leave now!" That was Sabine's voice. The hulking form leaning on her shoulder must be Zeb.

"Ez… Ezr…." Kanan tried to say.

"Hush, love. Spectre Five, where is Spectre Six?"

"…Overwhelmed…" Sabine's voice was faint. "… Find him…. Go back….."

The jungle was cut off by the Ghost's overhang, and muffled voices and glaring lights was all that Kanan comprehended for some time.

* * *

Scuffling boots intermingled with the monotone of copious voices, and white shadows swam between duracrete walls. Shaking his head only worsened the froth in Ezra's mind. It seemed easier just to lay back and let himself be dragged.

Dragged.

"Wha' the…."

"Is our guest awake?"

That voice was supposed to be familiar. Not good.

The slithering noise ceased and sensation returned to Ezra's body, accompanying a sharp rap as his elbows struck the floor. Kallus's sneering face loomed above him.

Definitely not good.

"It seems your friends have abandoned you ... again. I hope they will oblige me by returning like the last time."

 _And the time before that, and the time before that…._ Ezra was getting used to impromptu rescues.

"Until then," Kallus continued, "You are entirely at my disposal. Take him to the quad locks."

 _I really, really need something snappy to say right now,_  Ezra thought as his wrists were grabbed again. Ingenuity didn't seem to be worth the effort. He watched the corridors slide past and tried to map out where he was on the ship. Kanan would want to know.

_Classified Star Destroyer. Lots of doors. Panels on the walls for opening things. Good thing the floor is smooth, or this would really hurt right now._

He had enough wits about him to guess his brain was functioning at the worst possible level. Zeb was never going to hear about this.

_Loth-rat, Lot-cat, Loth-wolf, run. Pick the locks and out I come._

Escape was hardly a problem; these bucket heads didn't know what they were doing. Waiting for the Ghost instead of sneaking out with a spare Tie… that would be harder.

_Patience… Focus… Is it just me, or does Kanan really need to work on the first part?_

"I trust you'll enjoy your new quarters," Kallus said as a small slot opened in the wall. "If these were my orders, I would offer you a more  _comfortable_  suite with a few droids as company."

 _Meaning a couple of IT-Os_. Ezra snorted.

"However, I have explicit instructions as to your care. Put him inside."

A blur of movement, and he was shoved into a tiny space, feet tangled beneath him and head lolling against his right shoulder.  _You could've made it a little roomier!_  Ezra wanted to say, but the door swished closed and all he could hear was the hum of darkness around him.

"S'kay," he mumbled thickly.  _Could be worse. Could be better equipped, like with a ventilation shaft!_ But it could be worse.

He would just have to wait for mobility to return to his limbs, and then search for a way out. Every prison had its flaw.

* * *

"Seal the corridor off," Kallus instructed his personnel. "I want neither sight nor sound in this hall for the next seventy-two hours."

"Sir, the cell is impenetrable. If we –"

"I've seen that Loth-rat dupe stormtroopers before. No one enters the corridor – Vader's orders."

At the mention of Darth Vader, the imperialists snapped to alert. "Yes, sir!"

"Sir, what if the Jedi attempt a rescue?" a young lieutenant dared to question.

Kallus scowled until the man cringed away. "I suggest you double the guard around the exits, just in case."

He was equally irritated when he returned to his quarters and found a black robed visitor waiting. "You know, security locks are a privacy measure on this ship."

Darth Vader spared him no attention. Kallus wondered if Tarkin's jaw was equally sore from continuous grinding.

"Congratulations on finding the boy," he said with forced ease. "Luring them to a remote planet, importing thousands of crushed plants – what were those, anyways?"

Still no answer. Kallus' gloves wore down a little more, and his teeth crunched in irritation. "Well, you captured the little brat, anyways. Pity you lost the rest of his team."

"The boy is all that was required."

Finally, an answer!

"Indeed?" Kallus walked slowly to the drink dispenser. He selected a stim-tea and waited for the brew, calculating Vader's intentions. "Is he any more special than other Loth-rats linked to the force?"

"That is the Emperor's concern."

"Really." His gloves were squeaking again. Kallus stretched his hands, determining to end the habit. "You know, if you want the kid broken down, you can do a lot better than a rat cage. Give me a few hours with him. A jab or two from the IT-O and a dose of OV600, and you'll have all the rebels' dirty secrets."

"No one is to interfere." There was a warning there.

"Special plans?" Darth Vader was ruthless, so Kallus heard, but this jealousy over a skimpy padawan was rivaled. Kallus had a few grudges of his own to settle. "That boy has sabotaged half my battalion. I want him wiped clean." A blank memory and a few years in the Imperial Academy, and "Jabba" would eradicate the same rebels who had looked to him for hope.

"His fate will be decided by the Empire. No interference," Darth Vader repeated.

The steam rising from Kallus' tea was as curling as his stomach. "That cell isn't even force-inhibiting. It's a cargo transport. What do you expect to do; deliver him to the Emperor without preparation?" Even an additional drug dosage would weaken him enough to be susceptible to interrogation.

"You had the opportunity to please the Emperor, and you have failed. This mission is under my command now." With that abrupt dismissal, Darth Vader strode from the room.

The disposable cup crumpled in Kallus' hand, sloshing tea over his fine gloves. He hardly noticed the burn.

…

"He's going to think we abandoned him." Sabine stared at the console with glazed eyes, hoping a Tie would appear on the screen so she could blast it.

"We did not abandon him," Hera said tersely. She gripped the steering forcefully, knuckles pale. "We just can't storm in there with two of the team wounded. Kanan can't form a coherent sentence, and you know Zeb –"

"Is perfectly capable of operating a rescue plan." Leg dragging, Zeb hauled himself into the adjacent seat. Hera sighed.

"You were shot twice, and bacta isn't going to fix everything. We wait until Kanan is awake."

"And how long will that leave us before the kid vanishes for good?" Waving his fist emphatically, Zeb slammed it onto the armrest. "I say we go back and tear that outpost apart. Search every tree until we find him!"

"We are  _not_  walking into an ambush!"

"We never should have been caught in the first place!" Sabine argued. "The Fulcrum said the planet was free of Imperial control."

"Maybe it wasn't the Fulcrum who contacted us."

Everyone turned at the rasping voice. Kanan leaned against the doorway, eyes haunted and dull.

"You should be resting, love," Hera urged softly.

Kanan rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "How long?"

"You were out of it for nearly seven hours."

"The mission," Kanan insisted. "How long?"

Hera cringed and shook her head. "Several Imperial starships already left the planet. He's gone, Kanan."

"Not gone." Squeezing his eyes shut, Kanan fell into the chair Zeb abandoned, breathing harshly. "Follow them."

"We can't go in there now. You're hardy lucid, and Zeb –"

"Karabast, just turn the ship around!"

"Go," Kanan urged.

Quietly Hera turned and flipped a few controls. "Setting course."

"Finally!" Zeb thumped Kanan's shoulder enthusiastically. "Knew you'd talk some sense into 'em."

Fingering his brow, Kanan waved the Lasat away. "Just hurry."

* * *

The boy was aware of his surroundings now. Darth Vader watched through the hidden holocams as the padawan felt the walls around him, searching for a door crack or ventilation slit where he could reach a wire. He had given up pretending illness and asphyxiation long ago. Irritation was stronger than unease as he poked at the locking mechanism with the force. Darth Vader quickly shunted down his efforts.

Frustrated, the boy fell back and wriggled until his shoulders hit the wall. Initial muscle cramps would be setting in soon. The frudal flowers would have left his mouth parched and his limbs numb, but the sluggishness would eventually fade. Vader wanted his mind sharp when he presented him to the Emperor.

For now, the boy's susceptibility was to his advantage. Reaching out, Vader prodded his mind with the force. _Your Master will not return for you._

There was nothing more compromising than insecurity. Pain was an influential motivator, as the Inquisitor was so inclined to note, but doubt rooted deeper than ordinary fears.

_You are no longer needed._

_Alone._

In time, when the boy had no one to turn to, Darth Vader would give him over to the torture droids. Then, when he was battered down by pain and fear, it would be the Sith who rescued him from his pain. When that time came, Ezra Skywalker would reach out willingly when his father told him,

_I am here._


	5. Found

" _They are never going to come for me. People don't do that." –_ Ezra Bridger

* * *

The boy was strong like his mother. Steadfast like Shmi. Optimistic like Ruwee.

Self-doubting, like Anakin Skywalker.

Threats against the Empire trickled into meaningless songs and drivels, as pestering as the memories from Obi-wan's former padawan. Lists of peasant food followed, accompanied by periods of silence.

Forty-six hours. Ezra's neck had to be in terrible discomfort and personal needs must be met soon. Physical discomfort would portray what feelings alone denied.

_Forgotten._

Slowly Ezra was weakening. Darth Vader was impressed with the boy's fervor, but he was untrained and vulnerable. Within weeks, he might lose track of time to the point where he believed the Rebels had carried on without him.

_They left you before._

The only movement was the dip of Ezra's head as he bounced his chin on his knees, lost in the monotony of his prison.

_You cannot rely on them._

The force gathered around the boy, bolstering him; urging him to hold strong. Darth Vader waved it aside.

_You are alone._

* * *

"We stick with the plan."

Unwilling, Hera folded her arms. Kanan's voice was strong, but she knew how far he pushed himself with the force. The same thing had happened when Ezra fell off the ship while training. When they first ran into the Inquisitor. Honestly, the only time Kanan had proved he was capable of taking care of himself was when….

When the kid earned his scars.

"We should wait for backup," Hera urged.

"There  _is_  no time." Reckless. Impulsive. Kanan was a short-circuited droid on autopilot, and Hera would be ready at the helm while he drove himself to suicide.

"You're going to kill yourself," she warned harshly.

"What do you want me to do?" Kanan argued. "Sit here while Ezra dies?"

"Just – enough talk about this," Sabine implored. "We're losing time!"

"We'll be back," Kanan swore. His hand on Hera's shoulder was no comfort. She shrugged him away.

"I'll have the ship ready … like always."

Zeb hefted his bo-rifle confidently, and Hera pretended she couldn't see how he favored his right leg. "Don't worry; the kid's probably stuck in a ventilation shaft right now."

Hera shook her head. There was nothing she could do. Nothing but watch the solemn shards of her family sneak down the plank, burrowing into the heart of the Empire.

"We're not ready for this," she whispered.  _Not this time._

Chopper zapped out a claw, tapping his head in a 'loco' gesture. Narrowing her eyes, Hera nodded.

"Go with them," she whispered urgently.

Head whirling, Chopper shrieked and waved his claws.

"I'm not asking," Hera hissed. "Get out there, before I use you for spare parts."

She wasn't normally one to threaten, but Kanan wasn't normally one to throw himself into a death trap, either. Circumstances had changed.

Shaking his head, Chopper rumbled sulkily down the plank.

All Hera could do was wait.

* * *

_Hold on!_

Kanan shouted it through the force, reaching for his padawan while stormtroopers crumpled on either side.

_Wherever you are, Ezra, stay where I can find you!_

He could feel Ezra's signature. It was strong, pulsing with energy even if the life-force was weakened. Lack of air; deprivation; torture; whatever they had put him through, he had cut himself off from Kanan.

_It's not force-inhibitors. Kid, what's going on in that head of yours?_

No time to sort through mysteries. Their element of surprise was gone, and sabotage to the lower levels would only delay the stormtroopers for so long.

"Spectre Five, I need another distraction!"

"You've got it!" crackled the Mandalorian's reply.

Explosives from below triggered another lockdown. It would take the Imperials a few minutes to unscramble the chaos. Kanan needed more time.

"Get the kid!" Zeb called, guessing Kanan's intent. He broke off and ran down the branching hall, bolts skittering around him in crimson swathes. "I'll hold 'em off!"

"Meet up with Spectre Five!" Kanan ordered. "No one gets left behind."

"Yeah, like I haven't learned that from  _last_  time. Or the time  _before_!"

Kanan shoved the distraction from his mind.  _Focus._

_Come on, kid, where are you?_

There. He could feel Ezra in the lower cargo bay. Stable, but unnavigable, like a droid that had turned off its tracking signature.

Sighing, Kanan slid down the ladder.  _I thought we had gotten past the 'unwanted puppy' stage._

The hallways below were … relatively unguarded. Kanan entered cautiously, watching for a trap. No security. No stormtroopers. Not even a hatchway embedded with a bomb.

_Ezra?_

The kid still wasn't responding.

Jogging to the final door, Kanan slapped the controls and sidled against the wall. No ambush. No guards.

_Kid, what's going on?_

"Spectre One, this is Spectre Two. You've got a whole battalion coming up through the lower levels."

"On it," Kanan whispered. He lunged through the door and ran the last few feet, sliding to his knees beside a small cargo hatchway. The uncertainty within the cell made him stagger.

_Kid, you know me better than that._

Twisting his hand, he force-yanked the lock and shunted the door open.

A tired, miserable puddle of squinting padawan spilled onto the floor.

"Ow," Ezra mumbled. He blinked unsteadily, one arm spasming from the long confinement.

"No time for complaints, Kid," Kanan said, gathering the limp bundle into his arms.  _What did they do to you?_

"Kanan?" Ezra murmured. This time he responded through the force, and his relief slapped against Kanan's mind.  _You came!_

Kanan hesitated, holding the boy a little tighter.  _I never left you._

Relaxing, Ezra arched in discomfort. His hand latched onto his mentor's collar. "I can walk."

"And my father's a Lasat." Kanan rolled his eyes.

"Really? Cause I thought Zeb kinda…."

"Finish that thought and you're eating nutrient paste for a week."

"Space waffles," Ezra argued appreciatively. He twitched violently and cringed. "Ow."

"Stop trying to move, kid. Your muscles have been locked for hours. Spectre Five, clear the lower levels. I'm bringing him in."

"Why's it all white?" Ezra scowled at the passing walls. "Where's S'bine with the color?"

"Enough talking, Kid." Kanan hoped they hadn't exposed Ezra to a truth serum. But the chattering seemed to spur from sheer… gladness.

_You didn't think I'd risk it._

After all this time, the kid still didn't believe in him.

"I'm here now," Kanan murmured, peering around the bend.  _We really need to work on your trust issues after this._

The path was clear. Maybe Hera was wrong: there was such thing as an easy rescue op after all.

_And my father is a Lasat…._

Up ahead, the lift doors slammed shut.

* * *

To see the boy – to see his  _son_  – cling to the unlearned Jedi as though he was a trusted mentor; a guardian; a father … Vader's hand clenched on the console and the holo-screens shattered.


	6. Retreat

Clanging filled the hall as the air vents closed. Instantly Kanan whirled into a crouch, shielding Ezra. He dug in his pocket for a breather. "Hold your breath, kid."

The metal tool fell into his hand and Kanan took a deep gasp before slipping it into Ezra's mouth. The breather was ancient – he'd only used it a few times before the Temple burned – but it would be enough.

 _Please don't be nerve gas,_ he thought as white clouds hissed from walls. Running to the door, his lungs already demanding fresh oxygen, he focused on the blast doors.  _Come on, open up!_

Nothing. Ezra shoved the breather back into Kanan's hand, and he took another breath before returning it.  _Help me,_  Kanan tried to communicate.

Straightening as much as he could, Ezra concentrated on the lock. Their combined force nudged it … and immediately it grated shut, tighter than before. Ezra's eyes widened before a blast of dark power flung them away from the door. White corridors spun and Kanan lost his grip, spinning away from Ezra before his head struck the wall. He stumbled to his feet, reeling.

"Go." That was the last of his air. Croaking, Kanan instinctively gulped for breath. Emptiness filled his aching lungs.  _Null gas!_

The walls blurred.

Suddenly Ezra was in front of him, shoving the breather at Kanan's face. Stupid, brave kid. A long, luxurious breath and the mist in Kanan's head cleared. He could hear Ezra wasting his oxygen on orders.

"We're trapped in the corridor!" *Cough* "Can't move." *Cough* "Kanan … needs help."

 _I'm not the one suffocating myself!_  Kanan wanted to argue as he slapped the breather back into Ezra's hand. Idiot kid was barely able to move as it was. Ezra pointed upwards and Kanan instinctively picked out the ventilation shafts. Nodding, he handed Ezra his lightsaber and boosted the kid onto his shoulders.

_Hurry up; that breather only lasts a few minutes above water._

But hours of immobility had wasted Ezra's muscles. He fumbled twice, struggling to uncurl, and fell back with a whimper. Kanan's head was buzzing as he pushed his apprentice upright.

_We do it together._

Eyes gleaming in understanding, Ezra leaned back and flung his arm out as high as possible, letting himself fall into Kanan's arms. The arc of the lightsaber sliced through the vent hinges, freeing the trap where the force would not allow. Urgently Kanan shook his padawan.

_Go! Go!_

A bolt punched into his back, agonizing vibrations squeezing out what little breath he had left. Kanan found himself sprawled on the floor, white boots filling his vision as his lungs screamed.

"Kanan!" Ezra's voice seemed pitched and far away. He was crawling on his elbows and knees, fingers curling around Kanan's lightsaber – until the dark side slammed him against the wall and a furling cape blocked him from sight.

Roaring filled Kanan's ears. He clawed at his chest; his throat; convulsing as his body screamed to  _breathe!_  A gloved hand clenched around his throat and his eyes rolled skyward, taking in the helm of Darth Vader.

_Ezra…._

"Let him go!" Ezra's voice was wispy as he tried to suck in nullified air. "K-Ka…."

"Take him to the …." Vader's voice drifted and the pulsing in Kanan's head engulfed him.

* * *

"Karabast!" Zeb spun as the blast doors sealed ahead of them. "Time's up!"

"Get Ezra and Kanan out of there  _now_!" Hera yelled over the com.

"Not happening," Zeb said softly as his ears fell. More troopers were filling the cargo bay. Firing off a last shot, he grabbed Sabine's arm.

"Hey!" The Mandalorian twisted, her shot missing a trooper's helm. "Put me down, you great –"

"Bringing in Spectre Five!" Zeb shouted over the com. "Need a little help here!"

"We are not leaving without Ezra this time!" Hera said.

"No question about that!" Zeb said resolutely, shooting over his shoulder. "Karabast!" His leg crumpled and his shoulder ached. "Repeat, cargo bay is swarming with metal tramps! We need assistance!"

"Working on it!" The blast waves across the com suggested Hera was equally compromised.

Zeb hurled Sabine behind the crates nearest the wall and crouched beside her, aiming two discarded Imperial blasters. "That kid had better be…."

"We're trapped!" Ezra's reedy voice was punctuated with hoarse coughing. "Can't move… Kanan … needs help."

"Karabast." Kanan was compromised, and now both of the Jedi were beyond reach. Swearing, Zeb grabbed Sabine under the arm and hauled her to the blast doors.

"What are you doing?" Sabine yowled, striking out with her tiny fists. "You heard Ezra! We need to go after them!"

"Not happening this time." Twice in one mission, he was leaving the kid in Imperial hands. If something happened… there would be enough sleepless nights as it was. Best not to consider the "what-if's".

"Hera, we're cornered at the hangar doors. We could use a –"

"Hang on!"

"We need it now!" Zeb roared.

A spin and a click, and the doors slowly grated apart. Chopper beeped frantically on the other side.

"Knew we kept you around for a reason!" Zeb said as he dragged Sabine through the widening slot. "What control can you give us on the upper levels?"

Chopper whistled in dismay and batted his claws.

"What do you mean, no response?" Zeb exclaimed. "It's a ship! They don't talk back!"

"No arguments; we take the upper levels," Sabine determined, slipping out of Zeb's hands.

"Whoa there, no one's running into a firefight!" Zeb retorted. "Spectre Two?"

"Right behind you!"

"Finally. What can you do to the inner mechanisms?" Throwing Sabine over his shoulder, Zeb ran for the Ghost. He glanced over his shoulder at Chopper. "Come on, you bucket of bolts!"

"I've lost communication with Kanan," Hera responded. "We need to get out of here!"

"Roger that." Heavy words, crueler than a lightsaber ripping through his chest.

"Are you guys crazy?" Sabine cried out. "There's no way we're running off while – Hey!"

The moment Chopper's wheels hit the floordeck, the ramp closed. Hera closed her eyes, her heart crying out for Kanan to miraculously appear on the other side of the hangar.

The com remained silent.

She gunned the engines.


	7. Fear

The cadet was clearly new at his job; his knees fairly crumpled as he saluted. "Agent Kallus, sir, we apprehended the rebels.… The crew got away, sir."

Kallus' eyes narrowed as he watched two stormtroopers drag the youngest rebel out of the hall. Vader had what he wanted, then. "Follow them."

"Yes, sir!" Glad for the reprieve, the lieutenant darted away.

Kallus strolled up to the troopers and examined the boy. "See to it that he is restrained properly, then return him to his cell."

"We have orders from Lord Vader to assign him to a different chamber, sir."

"Indeed?" Perhaps Vader was frustrated with his lack of progress with the boy after all. "Carry on."

Retrieving a trooper helm, Kallus activated the air purifier and entered the oxygen-deprived hallway. He looked down callously at the Jedi who was being fitted with a breathing mechanism.

"The gas will wear off quickly once exposed to oxygen," Kallus hinted. "I expect further binds will be necessary for a force-wielder."

"Extract the information we need regarding the rebels," Darth Vader ordered. "Use what force is necessary, but do not kill him."

"With pleasure." Before Vader could depart Kallus mentioned, "The boy is still in custody. It will be more efficient if I question them together."

"Do what you will with the Jedi. The boy belongs to me."

Kallus faltered and tilted his head. Was that possession he heard? He knew Darth Vader was searching for force-sensitive children, but his behavior was recently… unusual. Perhaps the Empire was more involved with the Lothal brat than he thought.

Something was askew.

"You answer to the Emperor, not to me," Vader said, as though sensing his thoughts. "I suggest you avoid disappointing him."

Once more, an evasive tactic that left Kallus with no answers. Glowering, he waved to the guards and stalked away while they bound the stirring Jedi. He had an interrogation room to prepare and an IT-O to reboot. The only question was, how far could he push the rebel without killing him?

* * *

"This was all my fault." Zeb braced his shoulders against the wall, grunting as Hera rebound his leg. "Shoulda kept the kid off the planet in the first place."

"No one was expecting this." Hera pulled the bandage tight and motioned for Zeb to turn around so she could inspect his shoulder.

"We have to go back," Sabine said quietly.

"To what?" Hera snapped. "We have no backup plan!"

"The Fulcrum…"

"The Fulcrum led us astray. Until we know where those communications came from, we trust no one but ourselves."

"Easy, Hera!" Zeb yowled, hissing as she dug out a piece of shrapnel.

"It smells septic. Chopper, find me the bacta."

"I can't believe you just left them there!" Sabine jumped to her feet and kicked a crate aside, satisfied when it smashed into the opposite wall.

"Do  _not_  blame this on me!" Hera snapped. "We should have waited until Kanan was recovered.  _You_  have nothing to say," she added before Zeb could speak. "Force-inhibitors are one thing, but you still had metal embedded in your shoulder."

"I know."

Hera wavered at the Lasat's defeated tone.

"I urged Kanan to go after him," Zeb said quietly. "It was one more mission; one more Star Destroyer. I guess I thought we were invincible."

"Zeb, no one blames you," Sabine murmured.

"No one has to say it. I know what I've done." Easing his shoulders, Zeb lumbered to his feet and cracked his knuckles. "So we mucked up everything. How are we going to get them back?"

Hera smiled faintly. "That's our next plan."

* * *

He woke in a cell.

Or, not a cell.

Gray walls, grey ceiling, grey blankets, grey storage panels and furniture.

So it wasn't a dark hole like before, but that didn't nullify the fact that it was  _definitely_  Imperial.

Gingerly Ezra eased from the bed, grimacing as sore muscles lanced from his heels to his neck. He'd had this feeling before, after a long hideout in the space vents. A monster headache was certain to follow.

He didn't trust the pain meds left on the nearby table.

_Okay, so it's not so bad – you've snuck out of cramped spaces like this before._

Ceiling vent: check. Wall vent: check. Door panel: double locked, and unusually barricaded compared to usual Imperial standards. Just to be sure, Ezra envisioned the locking mechanism like Kanan had taught him and –

_Kanan!_

Memories swamped Ezra and he stumbled against the table.

_Safe._

_Not enough air._

_Metal jammed into his mouth. Oxygen._

_Trading the breather with Kanan while they fought to stay alive._

_Storm troopers. Kanan writhing on the floor._

_Return of the awesome helmet that was_ _**no** _ _buckethead._

_Helpless as Darth Vader's hand clenched over Kanan's throat._

_Storm troopers yanking his arms behind him._

_Walls spinning, head imploding, chest searing. No air!_

Waking up in a grey room without his master.

Lunging to his feet (and paying for it when his calf muscles recoiled), Ezra slid down beside the wall vent and twisted the bolts.  _One, two, three, four… gotcha!_

Eagerly he tossed the grate aside… Only to sit back in dismay.

The vent had been sealed off with duracrete. There were fifteen holes lining the frame for air, each no wider than Ezra's thumb.

"What kind of ridiculous ship seals off its air vents?" Sighing, Ezra eyed the ceiling vent and climbed onto the table, gauging his limits. Eight feet high, no problem. They'd forgotten to redistribute the force-inhibitors.

Boosting his jump, Ezra grabbed hold of the grate prongs and peered into the shaft. "Karabast!" Another duracrete barrier shunned him.

"Your attempts are commendable, but futile."

Yelping in surprise, Ezra landed poorly and tumbled over a chair. Instantly he twisted upright and casually examined his fingernails. "What attempts? I just didn't feel like there was enough air in here."

_How did Vader get in here without me noticing?_

"Your connection to the force is well-tuned; however, Kanan has not taught you everything."

"Who's Kanan?" Ezra slung himself into the chair, hoping Darth Vader wouldn't notice the slight pitch in his tone.

"Don't fool around with me, boy. You revealed your master's name in the corridor." The doors hissed shut behind Darth Vader, trapping Ezra with the sensation of dark water closing over his head.

"That's funny, I thought that was my name." The casual bluff wasn't getting him anywhere. Ezra slung an arm over the table, flinching when a hologram was knocked to the floor.

"More the pity. He is useless to me." Righting the hologram, Vader switched on the image of a small room harboring a crumpled figure and an agent Ezra would never forget.

"No, wait –" Ezra jolted before he could stop himself. He could sense his own fear radiating across the force, accompanied by Vader's satisfaction.

"What did you do to him?" Ezra whispered. He stared at the tiny image of Kanan lying before Kallus' feet, and felt something jagged swell inside. Swiveling, he snarled at Darth Vader. "What do you want?"

"Don't take that tone with me, boy. I have no need for your petty insurgents." Darth Vader switched off the hologram and Ezra sucked in a breath, instinctively reaching for the last image of his master. "Once I have the information regarding your Lothal base, everyone on your ship will be held accountable for the rebel sabotage."

"Kanan won't give in," Ezra said fiercely. "I'm not afraid."

Vader was impressed. Two bold statements in one. The boy had spirit. "Perhaps. However, I am in direct allegiance to the Emperor himself. Should it prove expedient, I can relieve your master of any unnecessary … questionings."

 _Trap. It's always a trap. Like Kanan said, if it sound like it'll work, it's probably a trap._  "Oh, yeah?" Ezra said flippantly. "Well, I know the Emperor, and when he hears that –"

His boast was cut off in a gurgle as the force stabbed into the base of his throat. Gagging, Ezra understood the practicality of torture by asphyxiation. He was going to have a  _really_  bad headache when this was over.

Abruptly the pressure ceased. Ezra clutched his neck, relishing the sensation of free air.

"Save your impudence for the Emperor when you meet him," Darth Vader said. "I am merely the arbitrator."

"And what happens if I refuse to cooperate?" Gingerly Ezra patted his throat, checking for swelling. He could sense Darth Vader's smugness behind the helmet.

"Then I shall not be held accountable for your master's fate. I am aware that Agent Kallus' methods of extraction are proving … advantageous."

The force shunted against Ezra's mind, battering him with images of Kanan.  _Blood. Agony. Torture devices ripping flesh. Electricity charring bone. Screams. Horrible, putrid smells of carnage._

Screaming, Ezra wound his arms around his head.  _Kanan bolted to the wall, his face an unrecognizable mass of scars. Mutilated hands. Ruptured spine. Deadened eyes begging for death._

"Stop!"

Immediately the barrage ceased. Gasping, Ezra uncurled from his fetal position, disgusted to find himself at Vader's feet.

"This is merely a taste of what is to come, should you defy me," the Sith lord warned. "I am a very tolerant commander. Do not tempt my patience."

"If this is what you call patience –" Ezra's quip was cut off with an invisible slug to his face. Blinking dazedly, he spat out a tooth.

"You have twelve hours to make your decision."

With that ominous threat, Vader left him alone.


	8. One Hour

"I can't understand it. The whole mission was a setup." Shaking her head, Hera shoved the datapad away. "Chopper, relay Fulcrum's message."

A fuzzy blue image sprang from the droid's recording base.  _"We have suspicions that Darth Vader may be tracking your ship. If you set course for the planet Raydonia, you may be able to secure the frudal flowers native to the planet. Once formulated correctly, the smoke of these flowers can create a force-inhibitor that will incapacitate even a Sith Lord."_

"The voice isn't right," Sabine said cautiously.

"Wait a second." Hera spun to the console, hands flitting over the controls. She peered at the listed screen. "Frudal flowers aren't native to Raydonia. They're from Lothal."

"Karabast!" Zeb slammed his fist against the wall. "Ezra said something like that."

"Why would Fulcrum send us to Raydonia?" Sabine said in alarm. "Why not –"

"Because the Empire wanted to separate us from any potential allies." Hera spun to face Chopper. "Take apart the coding of the transmission."

The screen blurred, pixelated, and stabilized into standard code. Sabine's eyes narrowed.

"That's Imperial script."

"Exactly." Hera rose and turned off the console.

"That means we've been following the Empire all along?" Sabine realized. "Ahsoka really didn't –"

"Not this time. Zeb, find out who hijacked our communications. Chopper, get me a transmission to the  _real_  Fulcrum."

"Right away!" Zeb leapt over the droid and loped down the hallway. Hera rubbed her arms while Chopper hacked into the Ghost's port.

"Do we know this will work?" Sabine worried. "What if it's another trap? What if we're already too late?"

"Sabine, that's why we're calling in backup."

* * *

_Think, Ezra, think!_

Turning at the wall, Ezra marched to the other side of the room and spun around. He had a plan. When an incompetent officer came to deliver food and water (he promised himself this was a given, as his stomach twisted into itself ravenously), he would force push the officer into the wall, steal the uniform, traipse to Kanan's cell, and finally steal a Tie, whereupon he would contact Hera and they would all spring to freedom in a blaze of Sabine's explosives.

The plan would work. At least, Ezra was certain it would work. It was so much harder to think when his hands felt like durasteel blocks and his feet seemed to be cemented to the floor. They must have given him a nutrient feed for dehydration, but the lightheadedness was getting old.

 _Focus!_  He could practically hear Kanan's lecture.

Sighing, Ezra plopped against the wall and leaned his head back.  _Focus. Get outside, grab a trooper helm, get Kanan, get out._

_You are alone._

Scowling, Ezra rubbed his eyes. Kanan was the one alone, and he would be the one to call in backup this time.  _What a lousy mission this turned out to be._

The door swished open and Ezra glowered as Darth Vader swept inside. "Figured you weren't the room service."

"My leniency has reached its end. Make your decision."

Breathing deeply, Ezra pushed himself up and folded his arms. "First, I want to make sure that Kanan is even alive. Take me to his cell, or there's no bargain."

"The Empire does not negotiate," Darth Vader said at once. Ezra rolled his eyes.

"However… as I am not controlled by the Emperor, I will give you one hour to fully assure yourself of his present state."

Blinking dazedly, Ezra fought down a grin.  _It worked! It shouldn't have worked. Is there a catch somewhere?_

"And you'll let me talk with him face to face?" Ezra ensured.

"Do not test my patience."

"No, I wouldn't dare try that." Biting his lip against a smile, Ezra slipped past the robed Sith. Instantly his arm was yanked and a needle plunged into his shoulder, followed by the uncomfortable gush of fluid.

"Wait – what'd you…" Faintness caused Ezra to stagger, and he tried to slap the gloved hands that steadied him.

"Merely a precaution, should you have any  _ideas_ ," Darth Vader said pointedly.

"S'at made from frudal flowers?" Widening his eyes, Ezra shook away the lethargy. His margin of the force was already sliding shut.

"A diluted dose will generate no ill effects."

"Hate Lothal sometimes." Ezra swore they had the same weed on both planets. Where else did the Imperialists get a never-ending store of those flowers? "Fine." He slapped Darth Vader's hand away. "Prove to me you're not lying."

The iron grip on his shoulder reminded him who was in control. Wincing, Ezra shrugged lopsidedly. "You know, my friend's a Lasat, and I'm starting to think he's as gentle as a Loth-kit."

He was not graced with a response.  _Imperialists don't need a bucket to be emotionless tin cans._  Ezra exaggerated a yawn, folding his arms so that Vader wouldn't see how his hands shook.  _You're fine. Kanan's fine. What did he always say? 'There's no fear, only the force'?_

_You are alone._

Ezra pushed down the thought.  _Kanan is still alive. We'll find a way out of this._

His throat ached with uncertainty as Darth Vader halted before a standard Imperial cell and pressed the locking mechanism. "You will have one hour," the Sith lord said.

_A whole hour? That long? What's he planning?_

Ezra stumbled as he was thrust into the cell, and the door swished behind him. He glanced to the right and gasped. Sith lords and Imperialists were no longer important.

"Kanan!"

The Jedi Master winced and curled in, arms loosely cradling his torso. Mottled swelling accented the gash on one cheek. There was a boot print on his leg.

"Kanan!" Sliding to his knees, Ezra tentatively grasped the Jedi's shoulder. Kanan groaned.

"N't g'na … work…. Lusions…"

"I'm not an illusion," Ezra assured. He flinched when Kanan did, wishing there was something he could do.  _This is all my fault._

"Can't feel him." Kanan feebly slapped Ezra's hand away.

"He injected me with something," Ezra said quickly. "I can't use the force."

Kanan scoffed lightly. "Heard… that one 'afore."

"No, Kanan! It's me!"

"You heard my name in th'corridor. Can't use th'kid against me."

"Kanan, really! I – I helped you fight the Inquisitor, remember? You always think I'm distracted – that I never focus. You were mad at me for wanting to take your lightsaber to a Loth-cat once."

Murky eyes slit open. "Ezra?"

"Yeah." Slumping, Ezra laid his hand on his master's shoulder again. Kanan's eyes slid away.

"Could've gotten that from security holos."

"Augh!" Ezra yowled, "What will it take you to believe me?"

Kanan huffed lightly. "That might."

Sheepishly Ezra grinned. "Darth Vader brought me down here. I don't understand. I told him I wouldn't cooperate unless I knew you were alive, and … he agreed. Sith Lords don't do that kind of stuff, though … do they?"

"Vader will never keep his word." Kanan's fervor crumpled into a laborious cough. It took him several minutes to catch his breath. "Don't … let down your guard. He'll try to turn you."

"I won't give in," Ezra swore. "I don't care what he does to me. I'm not afraid."

"Listen." Kanan cupped his hand around Ezra's neck and pulled him down. "He'll try to … manipulate us … using each other. Don't let him."

"I won't let him kill you," Ezra insisted. "We'll get out of this together."

Kanan shook his head. "Th'mission!" He coughed jaggedly. "Ezra, the mission… comes first. You're the mission. You get a chance, you … get out. You hear –?"

He seized up, clutching his chest. Ezra supported him until the spasms passed.

"D'n let me down," Kanan whispered.

Ezra's voice cracked. "Kanan…."

The Jedi slumped, and Ezra was afraid to shake him awake. "Kanan? Kanan!"

He looked around the cell, desperate for help. Grey walls and a restraining table offered him nothing. Cradling Kanan's shoulders, Ezra pressed his forehead against his master's.

"You're asking me to do the impossible."


	9. Cooperation

"I can assure you that we sent no message of the kind." Fulcrum's image fragmented momentarily and stabilized again.

"How would the Imperialists have tracked your messages?" Hera wondered. "No one else knew about our contact."

"They may have learned something while Kanan was being held by the Inquisitor."

"Nah! Kanan would never talk!" Zeb refuted.

Ahsoka shook her head. "As much as we trust your team, we must consider every possibility. The Inquisitor may not have my name, but he could have discovered our transmissions. That information would have been passed directly to Darth Vader."

"And then used against us," Hera surmized. "What do you know of the frudal flowers?"

"Enough to say that if Lothal is supplying the Empire, we are all in grave danger."

"But Kanan says it only affects force-sensitives," Sabine pointed out.

"Exactly, which means that if there are any force-sensitives in a sector – be they Jedi or not – the Empire will be able to herd them out. There won't be a safe planet for anyone."

"Karabast," Zeb muttered.

"Our first objective is to cut off the Imperialists from any suppliers. There must be mass-production farms on Lothal."

"What about Kanan and Ezra?" Hera reminded.

"If this threat is not controlled, no one will be safe," Ahsoka said. "We cannot take any chances. We'll send a reserve team to find them. Otherwise, I'm afraid this takes first priority."

"Oh, don't give us your sympathy!" Zeb growled.

"You know we'll do everything in our power to rescue them," Ahsoka promised. "But you are the closest to Lothal and you know the region. We need you there."

Hera leaned back and folded her arms. "No can do."

* * *

When the door hissed open, Ezra was ready. He stood before Kanan, ignoring Kallus as the agent peered over Darth Vader's shoulder. "Fine. I cooperate, Kanan doesn't get hurt. Deal?"

"I wasn't aware we were placating the  _rebels_." Kallus scorned.

Ezra concentrated on Darth Vader. "Do we have a deal?"

The Sith lord stretched out one arm. Looking down at Kanan one last time, Ezra straightened and approached. He fought down a shudder as Darth Vader's hand engulfed his shoulder. Coldness interspersed the warmth that Kanan's presence would have left behind.

"Your skills will not be required at the moment, Agent Kallus," Darth Vader said. "Leave the Jedi in his cell."

"Shall we not question him, Lord Vader?" Kallus' eyes narrowed as he glanced down at Ezra.

"You have your orders."

Sneering, Ezra allowed himself to be guided away. He shivered.  _I won't let you down, Kanan. But I can't let you die._

He had gone undercover at the Imperial Academy before. He could fool Vader.

He wasn't afraid.

_Your weakness is your faith._

Ezra shoved the voice deep within. It wasn't a weakness to protect his master.

* * *

There was no question that Darth Vader was  _coddling_  the rebel. Kallus scowled as the boy was led from the Jedi's cell.

"I thought the term  _isolation_  meant –"

Vader raised a hand for silence. Irked, Kallus watched as two stormtroopers led the prisoner away.

"His name is Ezra Bridger," he informed Darth Vader crisply. "We matched his facial features with a boy from Lothal. We're gathering information on his background."

"Concentrate your attentions on the Jedi Kanan," Darth Vader ordered.

"My lord?"

"Do you question my orders?"

"Not at all," Kallus said. "I am merely curious as to the –"

"The boy needed a distraction for my plans. Find the Rebels at all costs, but remember, the Jedi is more valuable to me alive."

"It will be done, Lord Vader." Kallus popped his knuckles in anticipation.

Only when Vader had left the corridor did Kallus allow his doubts to surface. Darth Vader had been hunting force sensitive children since the beginning of the Empire. Kallus had assumed his objective was to eradicate any chance the Jedi had for rebuilding their order, and to raise the children under the influence of the glorious Empire.

There was something more to this one.

"Has Darth Vader ever taken on an apprentice?" Kallus asked a passing lieutenant.

"I … believe he has made the attempt before," the lieutenant stammered. "Those never turned out well."

"More corpses than Sith lords, so I've heard," Kallus murmured. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

He crossed his arms contemplatively and glanced back at the Jedi's cell. Kanan. Now he had two of the rebels' names. It was only a matter of time before the rest were hunted down. Kallus hoped he wouldn't be too preoccupied to witness their executions.

Inspired, he paused in the corridor and signaled one of his guards. "Put me through the transmission Lord Vader used to signal the rebel ship."

It had worked when the boy was captured. A viewing of their beloved commander would indubitably sway the rebels to recklessness. Within a month, Kallus would have them all in detention blocks.

The Emperor would be pleased.

* * *

The boy thought he could fool a Sith lord. Darth Vader could sense Ezra's satisfaction as he paced, already plotting how he would tweak his captivity into a subtle escape. There was no suspicion that Darth Vader was really controlling the situation; that the only reason Kanan was still alive was because he was useful to the Empire's cause.

The boy was too easy to manipulate. He shared the weakness of Anakin Skywalker; guarding his loved ones at all costs.

And just as Darth Vader had been shown the truth, Ezra would learn that the only means to protect his family was through the dark side.

His training had already begun.


	10. Threats

"Coordinates are set, tracking the Imperial ships that left Raydonia." Hera nodded smugly and patted Chopper's head. "Nice work."

"Uh, Hera…?"

The fact that Zeb crept to the doorway was her first warning. The Lasat hesitated at the threshold, picking at the edge.

"You'll want to see this."

* * *

_Something's not right. Something's worse than not right!_

Ezra whirled the moment the door opened. "What did you do to Kanan?"

"Don't use that tone with me,  _boy_."

"You said he wouldn't be hur – guh!" A familiar force punched Ezra's throat and he collided with the table before slamming into the wall. Wheezing, he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Do not think I am here to coddle you," Darth Vader said. "You agreed to the training and now I am your master."

The pressure ceased and Ezra collapsed, gasping. "Not … mine…. Said I'd cooperate… but you ... promised Kanan –"

"I said I would relieve him of any  _unnecessary_  interrogations. Until the Rebels are found, his discomfort is his own liability, along with yours."

"Wait…." Rubbing his throat, Ezra edged closer to the wall. "Are you saying...?"

_He saw Kanan again, heard his anguish, felt the heat and tear in his right arm as a vibroblade…._

"Your errors shall fall upon him, until you learn the true ways of the force."

"You can't touch him!" The table collided with the wall and a chair flew by Vader's helmet. Heaving, Ezra clutched his head.

Darth Vader surveyed the dented furniture with admiration. "Your anger is already more powerful than your thoughts for your master."

"Shut up!" The overhead lights rattled and crunched. Ezra whipped his hand forward, directing the shower of glass at Vader. "Shut up! Shut up! I'm not letting him down!"

Darth Vader calmly waited until the barrage was finished, then scuffed his foot through slivered glass. "You have already failed."

Dismayed, Ezra stepped away from the destruction. He flinched as a dark bundle was dropped at his feet.

"An Imperial position requires a new uniform. Need I remind you that it is the rebellion of your crew that has brought this upon your former master? Do not exacerbate his torment."

"Torment?" Ezra surged into the force, grasping for the drifting strands, searching for Kanan. "No, he isn't – you're just trying to scare me!"

"Search your feelings, Ezra. What does the force tell you?"

"Don't use Kanan's teachings against me!" Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tear the last of the drugs from his mind.  _Kanan! Where are you?_

_Decaying flower scent. White walls. Kanan's fear. No air save for the breather shared between them._

_He would never have been captured if not for you._

"Tomorrow your training begins. I expect you to be ready,  _padawan_."

Ezra waited until the door shut before hissing between clenched teeth, "You are not my master!"

_Kanan!_

_Where are you?_

_Tell me it's not true!_

_You are alone._

* * *

"The transmission originates from the same encryption we thought was the Fulcrum." Soberly Zeb flicked the com switch. His ears drooped lower and he stepped closer to Sabine as though shielding her.

Hera's eyes widened. She flinched at each crisp remark from Kallus; hissed when the first punch propelled Kanan into the wall.

"Where is Ezra?" she said tightly.

"He doesn't come in," Zeb said.

They were kicking him.  _Her_  Kannan. Something crackled in the corner of the hologram and Hera slammed the off switch.

"When did this transmit?"

"An hour ago." Zeb didn't understand the word 'defeat'. His capitulation terrified Hera. "There's more. A lot more. You don't want to see the rest of it."

With a strangled yell that bordered on a sob, Sabine grabbed her helmet and bolted from the room. Chopper slumped, claws clacking limply on the table. Hera stared at the space where the hologram had played.

"Zeb, what am I going to do?"

"Go after him," Zeb said quietly. "Him and Ezra … providing they're both still there."

_Providing one or the other isn't dead._

Trembling, Hera pressed her fist against her forehead. It was never meant to be this way. They were smugglers and saboteurs, bartering for the right to survive.  _This_  wasn't supposed to happen.

"We'll get them back, Hera," Zeb swore. "If it kills us, we'll find them both."

Raising her eyes, Hera nodded. "Chopper, see how fast you can decrypt the transmission's source. I expect those coordinates within an hour."

* * *

Strange to think they'd once been … happy. Kallus swigged his lukewarm stimcaf and flicked to the next portrait. There was sparse information concerning Ephraim and Mira Bridger, but the recount was entertaining. Little wonder their son was as careless and hostile as a Loth-wolf missing its tail.

Screams echoed through the walls, and Kallus absently noted the time. Another half hour, and then he would resume the questioning himself. He had time.

 _What is so notable about this rebel, Lord Vader?_ Kallus examined the holograms again. Ezra Bridger, fifteen years old, son of two insubordinates who were put away when he was seven. Scavenger, vandal, and most recently, Jedi apprentice. Enough trouble to be wiped clean and placed in a detention cell for two months.

 _So why are you keeping him?_ Kallus set aside his stimcaf and folded his hands beneath his chin. Despite his forcefulness, Darth Vader had been almost  _careful_  with the child. Wary of damaging a prize, or concerned about harming something of more value?

"Lieutenant, where is Darth Vader now?" Kallus spoke into the intercom.

"Lord Vader is in his quarters, and has given orders that he is not to be disturbed."

"Indeed. Thank you, Lieutenant."

Kallus returned to the original photo logged from the Imperial Academy. There was nothing remarkable about Ezra Bridger. He took after his parents in appearance, and his face was undistinguished. Only his abilities set him apart.

"A-3, get me a blood sample from the Imperial records," Kallus said. "Medichlorian count, heritage, parents… you know the works."

Turning to the screen, he selected the Bridgers' data once more. "Now, let's see what makes you so extraordinary."

* * *

Darth Vader could sense his son's churning conflict. Nightmares as dark as the Imperial uniform afflicted the boy once … twice … five times, each sequence more realistic and terrifying than the last. Despair, loneliness, and anxiety flooded the overwhelmed mind, until Vader was compelled to nudge the boy with a calming force just to ensure he slept soundly for an hour.

Ezra Skywalker would forget his rebel friends soon enough, but Vader's efforts would not be delayed because a foolish dream kept the boy tossing all night. Tomorrow he wanted the boy ready. The Inquisitor was wrong; there was a stronger and more reliable motivation than pain.

Loyalty would be Ezra's undoing.


	11. Unbreakable

Kanan was a tough master sometimes. Zeb was heartless. Sabine had a sadistic streak. Chopper was never allowed near a blaster again.

Ezra could have taken the worst from all of them, and training  _still_  would have been easy compared to this.

"Dismantle the droids, he said! He didn't even give me a proper lightsaber!" Dodging a crimson bolt, Ezra dove beneath the flying droid and nearly collided with another. The electroblade Darth Vader had given him sizzled with low electricity. It was charged enough to block blaster bolts, but slicing through walls was apparently frowned upon in Imperial society … hence the droids were still gleefully functioning while Ezra stumbled.

He hated it. The Imperial uniform, the scarlet tinge to the electroblade, the dark side that flung him back into his prison every time he made it three feet outside. Worst of all was the increasing fear, wondering if Kanan was even alive. They must have used force-inhibitors on the Jedi; the only glimpses Ezra had were the occasional holograms Darth Vader left behind, but he could never feel his master.

Everything else he was keenly aware of.

Darkness. The futility of his own powers as he tried to remember hope. Fear that enslaved an entire ship, escalating whenever Darth Vader entered a room. Hunger for something more than himself; something that would purge the galaxy of the Empire forever.

Ezra growled and force-slammed a droid into the opposite wall. At least he didn't have to worry about ordinary hunger. Nutrient paste had a way of numbing the appetite. Anything flavorful that was brought in was obviously a trap; even slavers knew how to reward 'good behavior'.

"I am so done with you!" Ezra yowled, kicking the third droid aside. The force exploded around him like one of Sabine's masterpieces. Broken shards of metal from seven droids scattered the room. Shaken, Ezra switched off the electroblade.

Instantly he was thrown across the room.

"Don't let down your guard."

Dragging himself out of a pile of crumpled metal, Ezra scowled at the Sith lord. "One of these days I'll sense your grand entrance."

"Your skills are impressive," Vader congratulated. "Soon the Emperor will personally assess your development."

"Where is Kanan?" Ezra demanded.

"That is not your concern."

"You promised he wouldn't be hurt!" Ezra smacked the electroblade over his knee, irritated when it wouldn't snap. "Why am I doing this?"

"Let your frustration guide you. It gives you focus."

"I don't need any focus!" Ezra flung the electroblade at Vader's feet. "I want my real master back."

Darth Vader impassively reactivated the blade and spun it into Ezra's hands. "In a time of war, loss is to be expected."

"We made a deal! My cooperation, Kanan stays alive!" The overhead lights shivered and sparked.

"I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further."

"I don't answer to you!" The lights blinked out and the door panel cracked. Satisfaction purred in Ezra's chest, and for a moment he felt like he could crush the Empire.

"Yes, release your anger," Vader urged. "It will make you stronger."

 _Failure._ The word resounded deep within, shivering from Ezra's legs to his reeling head. Devastated, he lowered his hands and surveyed the damage around him. He felt cold.

_Kanan, I didn't mean…._

"I'm not a Sith," Ezra whispered.

Callously Vader nudged the remains of a training droid. "But you are no longer a Jedi."

* * *

"Course is set, tracking signature is steady." Hera analyzed the screen, kneading the tension in her shoulders and neck. "They're orbiting Eriadu."

" _If_ the message was even sent from the ship holding Kanan, and  _if_  they haven't transferred – wait, did you say Eriadu?" Sabine joined her at the console, fingering her helmet agitatedly. Hera raised one eyebrow at the dented side.

"How hard did you throw that, and is there any damage I need to know about?"

"I didn't – ugh, it's just – how do we keep slipping up like this?" Sabine slouched in the other chair, spinning carelessly. "We should have known it was a trap. We should have stayed on Lothal; done what we're best at; and never taken part in Fulcrum's scheming."

"Is that what you think?" Hera folded her arms loosely, curling to ease the kink in her back. "Kanan and I chose this because it was  _right_ ; because we knew there were more lives at stake than our own."

"Like Ezra's?"

Hera spun to face the console, trying to think past her sweaty palms, the hammering in her chest, the crawling fear that  _it's over, they broke him, we'll never find him again._

"Hera, I'm sorry," Sabine said hurriedly. "It's just – I never wanted this to happen again. Not after what happened to Kanan. Flying into Eriadu? We may as well be handing ourselves over to the Empire. What if we're wrong about this?"

"I don't know, Sabine!"

Wearily Hera rested her forehead in her palm. Kanan had all the backup plans. Ezra gave them hope. Without them, she was aloof and wandering, no better off than before she joined the rebellion.

"I don't know," she repeated softer. "We're on our own."

"If it's a matter of voting, I say it's worth the risk," Zeb said as he approached behind them.

"No question there," Sabine mumbled.

"Enough arguing, then," Hera said. "From  _all_  of us. We do what it takes to get this done."

"Sabacc earnings go to the one who smashes the most buckets." Zeb feigned cheerfulness.

Sabine was too distracted to take the bait, but Hera smiled.

* * *

There was an unusual bond between master and padawan. Anakin Skywalker had once shared that tether - risking his life and sometimes even the war - all for the sake of a child. It was nearly impossible to break; all the more wounding if a master or apprentice willingly left the other behind. It soothed and heartened, strengthened and restored. With a weak bond an apprentice might know if his or her master was still alive. With a fortified bond, the two were invincible.

If a fortified bond was shattered, the scars would char and linger, never healing with time. Anakin Skywalker had severed his ties with Obi-wan Kenobi. The scars remained.

Darth Vader motioned for the guards to leave before entering Kanan's cell. The Jedi had withstood the electric pulses and mind probe during the Inquisitor's interrogation, but Agent Kallus preferred grimmer tactics. Four weeks of contusions and open sores, cut off from the force and all communication, weakened by deprivation of nutrients and sleep, and still Kanan held on to that stubborn, frail thread that connected him to Ezra.

"I am impressed."

Pain-dulled eyes cracked open and a glazed mind searched for a snarky retort. Admittedly, this one had courage. Ezra had chosen his loyalties well.

But all was in vain.

"You increasingly frustrate my commanders with your lack of cooperation. If your resolve does not fail, I will have no choice but to resort to cruder methods."

"This in't... crude enough?" The Jedi rasped.

"Perhaps your padawan would have more to offer regarding the rebels."

Darth Vader had no intention of breaking the boy so soon – such drastic measures would destroy all of his plans – but the effect was instantaneous. Kanan jolted against the restraints, fear pooling like the sweat matting his hair.

"Don' touch'im!"

"What would the rebels give to spare his life?" Darth Vader slowly circled the table, feeding Kanan hints of Ezra's struggles; pain, despair, loneliness. He let the Jedi translate them for himself. The mind often conjured more terrifying images than a mere hallucination could incur.

"No… don't… he's just a kid..." Kanan tossed his head, gritting his teeth as dread spiked into anguish.

"More to say, have you?" Darth Vader asked, mocking the revered Jedi of old.

Gasping hoarsely, Kanan thunked his head against the restraining table. "Forgive me …" he whispered, then proclaimed louder, "I don't know anything!"

"The name of your  _ship_  would be an adequate start," Darth Vader prompted. The implications through the force became visions; a padawan crying out for his master, writhing at the feet of the Emperor, slowly weakening until he was but a shell, robbed of the life associated with one so young.

"Leave him alone!" The sudden fervor was unexpected, as was the wave of dark energy flaring out from Kanan. Just as quickly the Jedi slumped, pathetic as a Loth-kit defending itself against a wolf.

"Interesting." Darth Vader had thought Ezra was more attuned to the dark side of the force. "I sense you are equally prone to anger. Your influence will make your padawan all the more useful to the Empire."

"Ezra's ... nothing… like you," Kanan hissed.

Bold words, yet futile. Ezra Skywalker was well on the path to fulfilling his destiny. "Perhaps it is you who underestimate him."

"Don't touch him," Kanan grated. He twitched and grunted, blood trickling from a split lip.

"Then perhaps there is more you wish to tell me."

The light died in Kanan's eyes and he bowed his head. Faintly Darth Vader heard the whisper of defeat.

"I'm sorry, kid."

* * *

"Are you quite finished yet?" Kallus stalked up to the droid, irked as lines of names scrolled down the computer, each as useless and ordinary as the last. "What does it take to find one rebel's parents?"

He had obtained a blood sample for Anakin Skywalker from the old records of the Jedi Temple. The difficulty was convincing a stupid droid that a generational match could be found on Lothal. Thus far, four thousand citizens had been examined meticulously.

"At this rate we'll find the Bridgers by Empire Day," Kallus grumbled into his thermojug. He leaned forward, hand tipping ever so slightly. At that moment his foot caught on a wire and he stumbled, stim-caf sloshing onto the droid's scanner. Cursing, Kallus scrubbed at the dark stain on his uniform, oblivious as the screen jolted, reset itself, and settled on a random humanoid.

"Of all the –"

A sudden bleep on the computer indicated that a match had been found. Kallus' gaze latched onto the screen and a smile curled at the edges of his mouth.

"So, you're no ordinary boy after all."

The son of Skywalker. How ironic that they had changed his name. With a common surname like 'Bridger', who would have suspected the boy's real parentage?

"Luke Skywalker, eh?" A strange name to be found on Lothal. His guardians were wise to conceal him.

And now Kallus had more important news to deliver to the Emperor. A pity Vader would never hear of it until Kallus' promotion.

"Erase the records," Kallus instructed the droid, "And dispose of the blood sample. Wipe your memory if you have to: Lord Vader will hear nothing of this."

He copied the necessary files and hurried to his desk, anxious to complete the report. In his haste, Kallus failed to notice the planet indicated in the left corner. Tatooine spun lazily before the screen blackened.


	12. His Last Bow

Anakin Skywalker would have fought for the child. Darth Vader would have taken him directly to Mustafar and contorted him into the perfect apprentice.

Both would have felt guiltless at Kanan's demise.

The boy belonged to  _him,_  and Darth Vader would not allow a foolish, unlearned Jedi to stand in the way. Even now Ezra reached out to Kanan; unable to sleep, unable to concentrate, worry clouding his mind while his will remained as strong as ever. Somehow he was still able to brush his master's mind, bolstering where pain should have crushed; harboring where fear should have ravaged; encouraging where doubt should have manipulated. Kanan would not be crippled, and Ezra kept that hope alive.

It was time to end it for both of them.

Darth Vader reached out to his son, calming the troubled mind until exhaustion forced Ezra to sleep. Tomorrow he would be permitted to see his old master for the last time.

Tomorrow, he would have no one to look up to save his father.

* * *

" _Ezra."_

" _Ezra, Ezra, Ezra."_

_He was pelting through halls that were free of guards. Somehow he knew exactly where Kanan's cells was. It opened on his command, and he heard his name on the com._

" _Ezra!"_

"Huh?" Ezra startled awake, the dream blurring in his mind as he tried to remember where he was and why Zeb wasn't snoring below.

" _Ezra!"_

Stiffening, Ezra flung the covers aside. "Kanan?"

" _Run!"_

Like the night on the causeway, he didn't question the voice. Bolting to his feet, Ezra yanked on his boots and clumped to the door, grabbing the electroblade Darth Vader had left behind.

" _Wait."_

Senses alert, Ezra flattened himself against the wall. Tromping boots paused outside his door.

"You sure this was the right order?" a stormtrooper asked.

"Don't question it, Cadet. Just give him the datapad."

Bucketheads on a wayward mission, huh? Ezra grinned. Kanan was better than all right.

The door hissed open and Ezra lunged forward, using the electroblade for balance while he kicked out with both feet. Trooper helms must be duller than their shooting skills, for the soldiers collapsed without a sound. Looking around frantically, Ezra shoved them both into the room and retrieved their helmets before sealing the door.

" _Hurry, Ezra."_

Cautious this time, Ezra tucked one helmet under his arm and shoved on the other, gagging at the smell.  _Coming, Kanan!_

" _Do you remember the path?"_

White halls free of guards and a line of cells. Ezra knew where to find him.

" _Hurry…."_ Disjointed. Weaker.

Terrified, Ezra broke into a run. Hall after hall he passed, and there were no guards.

" _Imperial c_ _elebration… won't last long…."_

_Hold on, Kanan!_

The cells… he knew…. Jumping to the second corridor, Ezra trailed his hand down the doors and stuttered at the third.  _Kanan!_

He felt a brush of awareness in return. Punching the lock, Ezra slid inside before the doors fully opened. Despair punched his lungs as he ran to his master's side.

"Kanan!"

Blue-green eyes shuddered from beneath bruised lids. Kanan's panic drifted over Ezra in feeble waves.

"Ez…?"

"It's okay, Kanan," Ezra assured, removing the trooper helm. "I'll have you free in a moment."  _Please be okay! Please hold on until Hera finds us!_

"Wha… doing here?"

"I had a vision – you spoke to me." Quickly Ezra released the restraints, lunging to catch his master.

Kanan moaned. "Told you… g't out…."

Internal injuries, head wound, cracked ribs – all the things Hera had tried to warn him about swam in Ezra's head.  _What am I supposed to do?_

"It's fine, Kanan, I got this," Ezra said, pulling his master's arm over his shoulder.  _Master._  The word felt pure and fitting. This was where he belonged; right at Kanan's side, with Chopper shrieking and Hera scolding, and Zeb egging everyone on.

"Kid…." Kanan coughed laboriously, choking on what Ezra hoped wasn't blood. Assurance filtered through the muted bond and Kanan's arm tightened around his shoulder. Relieved, Ezra placed a helmet over his master's head before donning his own.

"No gas for us this time," he said, feeling more cheerful than before the Raydonia mission.  _How long since I've been home? Weeks? Longer?_

He led Kanan carefully, mindful of the older Jedi's grunts and dragging feet. "I'll contact Hera as soon as I find a com."

"Where's… buckets?" Kanan's voice drifted.

"There are no guards, remember? You sent them away."

Kanan blinked sluggishly. Unease trickled past Ezra's confidence. "You did send them away, didn't you?"

Certainty plunged into cold fear and he began to run, cringing when Kanan had to muffle his yelps.  _If it wasn't Kanan, then who woke me? Where is everyone? What Imperial celebration were they talking about? What if they were lying? What if –_

"Congratulations, padawan. You have succeeded in your first task."

Ezra gasped as stormtroopers filed in on either side. Darth Vader swept from the opposing room, and a familiar voice brushed Ezra's mind.

" _Do you remember the path? Hurry, Ezra."_  The tone was mocking now.

"You!" Ezra scuttled back against the wall, looking frantically between the troopers. "That was you all along!"

"The ability to sense the force does not make you intelligent. Release the Jedi, boy, and come with me."

Instinctively Ezra moved in front of Kanan. Kanan prodded his shoulder, trying to shove him out of the way; to protect what was his. Ezra glared at the stormtroopers, daring them to shoot.

The sharp sting in his arm was unexpected.

"Karabast!" Ezra hissed, grabbing his bicep as cold trickled into bone. Distracted, he felt the dark side's pull too late.

"Ezra!" Kanan shouted as his padawan was yanked into Darth Vader's arms. He leaned against the wall, spent, vision blurring at the edges.

"Get off!" Ezra wrenched on the glove-clad arm, hissing when his helmet was pulled away. Kanan's helmet flew into the corner next. Vulnerable. Helpless. Tears pricked Ezra's eyes as he saw his master bracing himself against the wall.

_No, no, no! Don't accept it, Kanan! You're not going to die! I'm not going to let them kill you!_

Kanan smiled gently. "There is … only the force," he whispered, assurance flooding Ezra's mind. Red careened from the sides and Ezra screamed as blaster bolts filled his vision.

"Kanan! Kanan! Kanan!"

Black arms held him close, a cruel embrace preventing him from dying alongside his master. "Kanan!"  _It's a dream! It's a dream! It's not real!_

A needle plunged into Ezra's shoulder and the lights dimmed, garish visions of stormtroopers and lightsabers swirling around him. The smoke cleared at his feet and he fell, shrieking until his voice was hoarse and Vader's hands were the only tether holding him lucid.

"Kanan! Kanan!"

Lifeless green eyes, void of the comfort Ezra had grown to trust. Smoldering flesh. Slack jaw dribbling red. There was  _nothing_  to feel.

"Kanan!"

Darth Vader pulled him upright and Ezra kicked out, wriggling towards his master, writhing against the hands clenched around his wrists. "Let me go! Kanan!"

He shoved with the force, crumpling when it skirted his grasp. "Kanan," he moaned, choking on saltwater. "Kanan!"

"Take him away," Darth Vader commanded as Agent Kallus entered the melee. "The Emperor will want the boy as proof."

Kallus' smile was curdling as he stepped back to Kanan's cor– no, it wasn't, he wasn't dead,  _he wasn't dead!_

"I hate you!" Ezra slammed out with his mind, devastated when the force wouldn't respond. "I'll kill you, do you hear me? I will kill you!"

"Congratulations on a job well done," Kallus said primly. "Shall I send word to the rebels of their comrade's fate?"

"Let them learn for themselves. Broadcast the news to Lothal when it is done; no one holds power against the Empire."

"As you wish, my lord." Loth-cat simpering with its fill of Kessel. Ezra wanted to crush Kallus' jaw. He wished it was Kanan he heard screaming, and not himself.

Wraith troopers filed before them, cutting off the last glimpse of sightless blue-green eyes. The room tipped and Ezra let himself fall with it. He felt himself being slung into ironclad arms, and couldn't bring himself to care.

Nothing else mattered.

Kanan was gone.


	13. Alone

Hera gasped softly, hands stilling on the controls. Sabine glanced up from her blaster.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't know." Hera pressed a hand to the side of her face, flinching in …

"What happened?" Sabine rushed to the console and checked the surrounding coordinates. No signs they were being tracked. The Star Destroyer still orbited Eriadu. "Hera?"

The Twi'lek shook her head, and for a moment Sabine swore her eyes glistened. "Nothing. It was nothing." Blowing cautiously, she forced a sense of calm. "It was like a daymare, that's all."

"Eh, you don't have visions, do you?" Zeb asked queasily.

"No, no." Hera laughed nervously. "Everything just … felt wrong for a minute."

"Yeah, well, Kanan's already got an apprentice and we need a pilot, so try not to feel any more."

Zeb meant the comment to be light-hearted, but Sabine saw Hera shiver. "Hera?" she whispered, touching the pilot's shoulder.

Hera stared at the Imperial fleet, her eyes haunted but resolved. "We need to get over there now."

* * *

_There is no death, there is the force. There is no death, there is the force. There is no death, there is the force._

Even with the force gathering around him in shredded strands, Ezra couldn't feel Kanan.  _Gone, gone, he's gone._

A hand curled on Ezra's shoulder and he stiffly pulled away. "You killed him."

Darth Vader stood impassively, watching the Starfleet grow smaller behind them. Ezra kept his eyes fixed on the Starship where Kanan had been alive, where he had smiled one last time, where his voice had brought comfort even when he knew he would die.

"I hate you," Ezra said quietly.

"Use your hate," Darth Vader said. "Let it control you. Prove yourself more powerful than the Emperor, and you will avenge Kanan's death."

"Shut up." Too numb to fight, too grief-stricken to forget the life that had been stolen from Kanan's eyes, Ezra pillowed his head in his arms and tried not to think.

 _Focus._  The memory of Kanan's voice sheared through his guard and Ezra burrowed lower, trying to muffle the croak in his voice, the quivering in his shoulders, the tears that reminded him of everything Kanan had been.

He scarcely realized Darth Vader had sat down before an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Protesting incoherently, Ezra choked as a twisted sense of security numbed the pain.

"Let go of me!"

"Release your feelings." The phrase sounded oddly Jedi. "There is no death. There is only the force."

"No, no, no!" Clawing at his hair, Ezra forgot to struggle as Vader drew him close again. "Stop it! Stop it! You're not Kanan!"

"Your master is dead." How could there be  _sympathy_  in that mechanical voice? Refuge blanketed Ezra, even while he kicked it away. Vader would not let him go.

"Do not fight it, Ezra."

No, how could he fight the crushing certainty? Kanan was  _gone_.

_It's all my fault._

The impression of security doubled until Ezra almost thought he was on the Ghost, Hera's arms around his shoulders, Kanan standing by the door. For a moment he imagined he could sense the older Jedi.

Sunk in the haven of his past, he barely heard Darth Vader's affirmation.

"I am your father now."

* * *

"You are certain that this is the son of Skywalker?"

"There can be no doubt," Kallus said. "I took the liberty of examining Skywalker's records. There are rumors he might have carried on an affair with Senator Amidala. Luke Skywalker matches both blood signatures."

"And where is the boy now?"

"Darth Vader has taken him to the Mustafar system; I suspect he intends to train him."

"What of the other Jedi?"

"He will trouble the Empire no longer."

"Very good, Agent Kallus. You have proved yourself worthy of your position. Send word to Lord Vader; I will see the son of Skywalker myself, and determine if he is as auspicious as my apprentice claims."

"It will be done, Lord Emperor." Bowing low, Kallus smiled. The Emperor's favor, a strike against the Rebels, and a blow to Vader's plans all in one night. His evening could not have been better planned.

* * *

Ezra shuddered, pressing his hand against the transparasteel and remembering what Hera had told him.  _He said that Mustafar is where Jedi go to die…_

Kanan didn't even make it that far _._

Burying his head in his arms, Ezra breathed sharply and tried to remember the glint of humor in Kanan's eyes, the frustrated "I don't want to know" whenever Ezra and Zeb found some new mischief, the griping between pilot and fearless leader when Hera was at the helm. There was so much darkness.

_Sabine. Remember her? Paint spattered gloves. She's so pretty when she's annoyed._

Encouraged, Ezra let himself sink into the memories.

_Zeb. Ezra could even put up with the horrible smell if it meant he was back on the Ghost. Always grudgingly dragging him out of a mishap, just so they could find more trouble._

_Hera. She never failed to make Ezra feel like he was home; safe; wanted._

_Chopper and his cheeky electric circuits. Pestering, rude, obnoxious, faithful._

_Kanan…._

Panicked, Ezra searched his mind, trying to remember. Shadow clouded Kanan's scowl.

_He abandoned you on Lothal. Tried to pass you over to Luminara. Sent you alone into the Temple. Decided you weren't even worth trying to train._

Ezra smiled crookedly, biting his lip.  _No, he didn't_ _ **try**_ _to train me. Do or do not; there is no try._

_He smiled when he knew he would die and leave you alone._

_Alone._

Lost, Ezra missed the curdle in the force behind him. He startled when a cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Looking up, he snarled dispassionately.

"What do you want?"

There was no malice in Darth Vader's stance; no lecture for being caught off guard; for mourning; for wishing for something he no longer had. The Sith lord said impassively, "I have received word from Agent Kallus. Your Rebel team aspired a rescue mission, and fell into a trap. Before I could intervene, they were executed upon the Emperor's orders."

"What?" Ezra scrambled to his feet, swaying as the cloak slipped from his shoulders. " _Executed_?"

"There were three crew members besides a droid."

"No…." Ezra shook his head frantically . "No, you're lying!"  _Three crew members and a droid._ He could have gotten that information from anywhere. It had to be a lie!  _Not Sabine, not Zeb and Hera!_

"Use your feelings, Ezra. Or do you wish for evidence of –?"

"No!" The transparasteel cracked behind Darth Vader, and Ezra sensed his alarm. Good. Let him taste the same fear as Kanan had before death. Let him –

_Ezra, no!_

He could hear Kanan's voice accompanying the memory of a lumbering, yellow-eyed beast. Crumpling to his knees, Ezra felt the anger vanish.  _Kanan! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!_ He was sobbing and it didn't matter. Metal shields covered the window, sparing him the sight of Mustafar and his fate.

_Sabine, Hera, Zeb, please forgive me!_

_Kanan!_

He was alone.


	14. Larceny

"Blasters?"

"Check."

"Helmets snug?"

"Check."

"Remember, I'm not pulling you out this time until I'm sure everyone's on board. If you kill yourselves, you take the rest of the crew with you."

Zeb gulped and exchanged a glance with Sabine. Grinning maniacally, he slapped her shoulder. "Ah, I'll take care of this one. Don't you worry, Hera!"

"Oof!" Balance compromised, Sabine fell in a clatter of armor. "Honestly!" she howled. "Is there any such thing as a short stormtrooper?"

"Told'ja you should have played a cadet," Zeb said.

"When you're both ready, I'm about to dock." Flicking the upper controls, Hera slid the Ghost into the Star Destroyer's airlock. "Cover story is that you're returning a lost Courier droid."

"Yeah, about that…" Zeb's eyes flickered to Chopper. "I thought maybe we'd just pick up the one we stole last time; you know, send it back to the Empire for real?"

"You  _kept it?"_

Zeb and Sabine flinched.

"Well, it was just a little droid, and we figured Chopper wouldn't mind as long as it stayed off the ship…."

Chopper's head swiveled furiously and Zeb grimaced, dodging the electric jabs. "Easy, now!"

"When Kanan hears about this, I am not defending you." Hera rolled her eyes, activating the ramp. "Just take Chopper with you and  _get this done_."

"Eh come on, you bucket of spare parts." Zeb sidestepped Chopper and punched Sabine's shoulder lightly, taking the lead.

Hera settled back tensely, watching the outer skies. Hundreds of Imperial ships surrounded the Tarkin planet. Unless they could jump to hyperspace fast, they would be Jawas in a Sarlacc pit if they were discovered.

"Don't let me down, you two," Hera muttered, checking the screen as her "stormtroopers" passed the first gate.  _For Ezra. You can't mess this one up._

She didn't dare think of Kanan. If her sixth sense was true; if the pull that even  _she_  had felt was real; Ezra had suffered more than all of them together.

If he had lost Kanan….

Even in the lonely, heartsick years ahead, Hera would never comprehend his agony.

* * *

 _Inquisitor_  Kallus. Years of brutal training and scrupulous work were nearly devastated by the Grand Moff Tarkin's visit. Kallus had half-anticipated that Vader's success would mean the end of his position. But that cheeky rebel brat had handed over the glory Kallus had spent a lifetime achieving.

Inquisitor Kallus. Favored soldier of the Empire, and secret keeper to Palpatine himself. No one was to know of the son of Skywalker. Not even Vader would hear of it unless the Emperor exposed the truth.

 _Padawan_  to Darth Vader. Kallus scoffed. The boy would be lucky to see his sixteenth birthday. No child from such a powerful Jedi would be allowed to survive. If the order was given, he would send a battalion to Mustafar and blow the Imperial base into a puddle of molten rock. He would deliver the boy to Palpatine, end his pathetic existence, or wipe his mind and raise him as a general; whatever the Emperor's orders, Kallus would fulfill his duty.

Darth Vader could stand by in that theatrical cape of his and clean up the aftermath.

* * *

"You're sure this is the right Destroyer, Chopper?" Sabine adjusted her helmet, trying not to draw attention to the midget stormtrooper and her suspicious purple counterpart, who was wearing little more than a few armored guards and an enlarged helmet.

"Bad plan; we should have sent me in as a captured prisoner," Zeb repeated for the third time.

"You know what happened before. We can't take any chances with a Sith on board."

"Yeah, which kinda makes me wonder why we haven't been caught yet."

"Maybe they haven't noticed the glitched security holos," Sabine said hopefully. "Chopper set them to repeat the records from two weeks ago. I never knew stormtroopers spent so much time gossiping."

"Like we're doing now?" Zeb said dryly. "Nice to know we fit in."

"Come on; Chopper says Kanan's cell is just this way."

"What about the kid?"

"No records were set on Ezra. Our only hope is that Kanan can sense him."

"Right, because the frudal flowers will help so much with that problem."

"Fine, you check the vents and  _I'll_ retrieve Kanan, and by the time we meet up –"

"Easy there, snippy; Hera said we work together, remember?"

"Then we'd better hope the  _real_  stormtroopers don't catch on to our costumes."

Zeb chuckled and retrieved his bo-rifle. "I'll have a nasty surprise ready if they do."

Chopper bleeped rudely and signaled to the far hall. Footsteps clomped and the droid instantly breezed by, innocent as a mouse droid sweeping the floors. The approaching stormtrooper took one look at Zeb's wiry limbs and lashed for his com.

"Oh, no you don't," Zeb growled, slinging his blaster into the trooper's helm. He nudged the prone soldier and shrugged. "Pity the peripheral vision is blocked by these buckets."

"You think?" Sabine snapped, forced to turn around just to see the wall beside her. Chopper whirled insistently and Sabine jabbed Zeb's arm. "Hurry! It's just this way."

Twenty crumpled guards and what Sabine hoped wouldn't become a widespread alarm later, and they stood before the prison doors. Sabine reached out hesitantly.

"Push it," Zeb urged. "What are you waiting for?" He looked around and growled, fur bristling. "I should find the kid. You stay with Kanan."

"Wait." Sabine was grateful the helmet hid her quaver.  _What if Hera really knows something? What if …_

"I'll do it." Rolling his eyes, Zeb punched the button. "We got him out before. What could the Imperialists have done this ti–"

His bo-rifle trailed on the floor, and he dazedly removed his helmet. "Oh, Hera…."

Trembling, Sabine edged into the room. "K-Kanan?"


	15. Broken

He was kneeling. Hands cuffed to the wall behind his head. Hair limp around his face. Blood cracking down one cheek.

Inert.

Apathetic.

Wrecked.

"Kanan," Sabine whispered, reaching out to the Jedi.  _No, no, no, no._

"Where's the kid?" Zeb said, touching Kanan's shoulder.

At the mention of Ezra, Kanan flinched. He whimpered sharply, head arching back.

Zeb cursed and knelt beside him. "Come on now, not even Tarkin's ears are this furry. It's us, Kanan."

"Ez…."

"Where's the kid," Zeb coaxed. He muffled an oath. "We don't have time for this. Sabine, take Chopper out; run the scanners one more time."

"Already on it."

"Talk to me, Kanan. Use the force – tell me where they stowed the kid."

Bloodshot eyes cracked open and Zeb stepped back from the intense stare.

"You know wha' … happened."

"Karabast," Zeb muttered. "He's out of it. Sabine, anything?"

"That's funny…. They wiped the holograms. Everything from the past two weeks is gone."

 _Gone._  Kaleb flinched bodily at the word. Zeb had scarcely released the restraints before a fist ploughed into his jaw. Kaleb sprawled, flopping and rambling incoherently. A baffled Zeb held him down, cringing every time the Jedi twitched n pain.

"Sabine!"

"I can't find anything – but there's another troop coming from three halls down." Sabine shut the panel and rushed inside. "They left the security holos off since two days ago; that's the only reason we haven't been detected."

"Come on, Kanan!" Zeb growled, patting the Jedi's temple. Karabast, it was the only unmarked spot on his face. "Where's Ezra?"

Kanan's eyes flew open. "Ez…?"

Then the light died in his gaze and he turned from Zeb, shoulders heaving. Zeb's ears flattened.

"Kanan… Kanan, what happened to the kid?"

"M'sorry," Kanan gabbled. "N't the… m'sorry, Ez…. Kid… please…."

Gently Zeb lifted Kanan from the floor. "He'll forgive you, Kanan; soon as we find him."

Kanan seemed to see him for the first time. He closed his eyes wretchedly, shaking his head. "Zeb...  _gone_."

Sabine heard a cry eek from her throat before Zeb lunged in front of her, taking charge.

"Sabine, contact Hera. Tell her …." He looked down sympathetically at Kanan. "Tell her there's one to pick up."

"Zeb…."

"Do it!"

Dazzled, Sabine fumbled for her comlink. "Sp-Spectre Five to Ghost."

"Did you find Spectre Six?" It was as though Hera had already expected the worst.

"We have Spectre One." Sabine's mouth was dry, and she marveled at how detached her own voice sounded. For a moment, she felt nothing at all. "We're bringing him in."

Silence over the com.

"Where is Spectre Six?"

Sabine's throat closed in. Zeb relieved her of the com. "Spectre Two, this is Spectre Four. Be ready to transport."

" _Where_  is Ezra?"

"He's not coming," Zeb said softly.

Sabine heard a ragged gasp over the com.

"Tell Spectre One I'm on my way," Hera murmured. Sabine wanted to cry, hearing her calm.

"Let's go," Zeb said, nudging her with his shoulder.

Sabine stood by numbly as Zeb shifted his grip on Kanan, cradling the Jedi tentatively for fear of worsening his wounds. Sabine knew that the physical was the kindest pain.

_How? When? What did they do to him before…?_

Kanan groaned softly and one blue-green eye cracked open. He looked hazily at Sabine, towards the open door, then returned his gaze to the floor.

Zeb spoke for all of them. "Move."

* * *

Hera was waiting when they arrived at the Ghost. It had seemed ludicrously easy to bypass security; a crueler stroke, remembering what could have been.

"Get him inside."

Sabine knew Hera's grief ran as deeply as her own, and she admired the Twi'lek's strength. Rapidly Hera directed Zeb to Kanan's room, helping him secure the Jedi in his bunk before returning to the helm. Sabine prepared the med kit while Chopper hovered.

"We need to take him to a facility," Sabine murmured to Zeb as she reviewed their scant supplies.

"Don't I know," he grumped.

There should have been shouting from the cockpit; a tractor beam pulling them back in; anything but favorable luck guiding them safely away from Eriador. Such a frivolous escape was impossible.

It wasn't fair.

"E-Ez…" Kanan tossed deliriously, his face drawn with anguish. "N-no… kd…."

"Fever's bad." Sabine jotted the superfluous notes quickly. "They treated his wounds, but he's never had time to heal."

Her hands were shaking. Why did her voice have to sound so composed?

"Sabine." Zeb gently took the datapad away. "I can handle this."

Roughly Sabine shook her head. "I need you to hold him down." They had to assess everything. Abrasions. Electric shocks. Contusions. Lacerations. Drugs. They didn't have time to worry about Kanan's state of mind.

"Ez…."

Sabine jerked back in dismay.

Kanan was crying.

 _I can't do this!_  Ezra. That glowing smile. Impenetrable hope. Steadfast determination. Desperate loyalty.

"Sabine, go." Zeb ushered her to the door. "Take the helm."

The helm. She could do that. Once they were out of Imperial territory, it would be instinctive to steer the Ghost.

Plenty of time to think about what they had lost.

"H-Hera," Sabine called waveringly, "They need you in there."

* * *

Twenty hours.

Twenty hours of clotting wounds and administering bacta, of stitching and cooling and resetting and purging. Fear drugs. Broken fingers. Swollen muscles. Scorch marks. Hera squeezed her eyes shut and in her mind she could still see the wounds.

"Kanan, what have they done to you?"

He was so broken. Every whimper was a cry for his padawan. Every jagged shout was a plea, asking for the boy to be spared.

Begging.

Her Kanan, resilient and unwavering,  _begging_  for Ezra's life. Tears slipped down Hera's cheeks and she distantly wiped them away.

 _Ezra..._ Whatever had happened, she prayed it had been quick.

Common sense told her Kanan was too distraught to have witnessed a painless death.

How could everything have gone so wrong?

Hera remembered when they had first brought Ezra on board. He had been a sulky, resentful child at the time; distrustful and coarse. His anxiousness to belong had overshadowed his pain, however, and in time he had looked to Kanan as the father he desperately needed. He had grown to be a smaller Kanan, almost: willful and belligerent, yet maintaining the faith which the Kanan Hera knew had never regained. He was the bright star tethering his master when the darkness of the Empire overwhelmed them all.

And Kanan had watched the Empire snuff out that hope.

"Sabine's laid in a course for the nearest med-facility."

Hera jumped at Zeb's voice, instinctively masking her fears. The Lasat rubbed his head uncertainly.

"We can't risk taking him in, but we can smuggle in a few supplies."

Hera nodded, and Zeb's shoulders fell.

"Karabast, what are we doing, Hera?"

_Why are we in this mess? Why involve the kid; Sabine; both of them too young and unacquainted with death? Why fight a growing Empire, knowing there will only be more brutality; more loss; no hope for a better life?_

Hera knew Zeb's thoughts, and they both understood the conclusion.  _Because we are the only ones who_ _ **will**_ _fight for freedom._

"I'll get the Phantom ready," Zeb mumbled.

"Oh, Kanan," Hera whispered, laying a damp cloth on the Jedi's brow. Kanan twitched feebly, trying to escape her touch, captured in his drugged prison.

"Wake soon, love," Hera implored. "I can't help you like this."

* * *

Kallus grudgingly admitted the cleverness of Darth Vader's plan. One plotted escape, two doses of Bavo Six, and what must have been a grueling session of force-visions later, and both master and padawan were crippled; forsaken; washed into a cold, grey universe without each other. It was pathetic.

It was brilliant.

They had kept Jarrus drugged ever since. Fear inducers, truth serums, force-inhibitors, hallucinogens; there was no limit to Kallus' worktable. No one cared what happened to the Jedi now.

Kallus had to chuckle at the sheer perfection of Vader's conspiracy. Both Jedi had been struck with Bavo Six from the start, leaving their minds panicked and open to Vader's manipulation. It was amusing to watch them crumple, thrashing under whatever nightmare the Sith lord had concocted. The boy had been injected with a force-inhibitor first. Kallus waited until Vader's departure before cutting off Jarrus' connection.

It had been terribly satisfying to watch the Jedi writhe, vainly searching for the presence that had been extinguished, watching his padawan's death play out over eons of seconds. Kallus only wished he could have glimpsed the same vision. Perhaps he could have gleaned inspiration for his own prisoners.

It mattered little in the end; within two days Kanan had been shattered under the torture, babbling inconsequential nonsense that the decoders were still trying to understand. As of yet he had revealed nothing the Empire wanted, but Kallus was confident they would soon learn the most important facts.

The Fulcrum.

The origins of Luke Skywalker.

The demise of Anakin Skywalker.

How many Jedi might possibly be left.

Where Jarrus' ragged band was hiding now.

"Sir, an unregistered ship left the hangar ten minutes ago."

Kallus froze in his victory. "What was the serial number?"

"Scrambled, sir; we couldn't get a read."

"When did this ship dock?"

The lieutenant stuttered at Kalllus' raised tone. "We … don't know, sir."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

"L-Lord Vader disarmed the security holos for the escaped prisoner, sir. We're still trying to put them online."

"Two days and you still haven't reset the holocams?" Stupefied, Kallus spun to the console and scanned the prison halls. His mouth dropped in a howl.

The lieutenant ducked, cringing as the console smashed into the door behind him. Perhaps it was ill timing to warn Kallus that a Lasat had been sighted in the lower levels.


	16. Comforter

_Mustafar: where Jedi go to die._

There were no bones left from previous executions. Only the despair and agony cloying the force testified of hundreds of innocents murdered on this forsaken planet.

Ezra would become one of them.

He didn't question his destiny. His old lightsaber, the blue shaft replaced with a red kyber crystal, dangled from his hands. Useless. Alone. He had nothing left to fight for, but that didn't mean he would surrender. He wasn't Vader's pawn.

"Your lightsaber is your key asset." Darth Vader's crimson blade snapped before Ezra's nose. "I warned you not to let down your guard."

"Who cares!" Ezra flung his sabre into the corner, cold heat churning in his limbs. "There is nothing left that you can take away!"

"Your master taught you nothing of the force. You could have saved his life."

"No, I couldn't!" Ezra let his anger resonate into the iron supports, curling his fists when they trembled. "If Kanan could have saved people, he wouldn't have been the last Jedi alive."

"Then he has deceived you by withholding the true nature of the force."

"I am not a Sith! Kanan wasn't a Sith! Get out of my head!"

Another close encounter with the wall. Ezra rolled, cradling his skull. Almost immediately a cool sense of the force slid into his mind, numbing the throb.

"The dark side is not only pain." Darth Vader's voice was almost nauseatingly soothing.

"Yeah? Well, Kanan never threw me into things, either." It felt good to use Kanan's name that way; to remember him.

"The Emperor is displeased with your lack of progress."

Ezra sneered. "Well, tell the Emperor he'll have to find himself a new Loth-rat, cause I'm not his minion."

He waited for the stifling grip around his throat, or the lance of being flung against a broiling wall. When nothing came, Ezra cautiously peeked at Vader. The Sith was just… watching.

"You are more than a Lothal-born," Darth Vader said at length.

Ezra chuckled mirthlessly. "And you're suddenly sympathetic? I think Hoth just melted."

"You are not from Lothal, Ezra."

Startled, Ezra felt his anger slip. "What?"

"Your mother was from Naboo. She wanted only the best for her son."

"Mira?" Ezra said faintly, all bitterness draining. "Wait, you knew her?"

"Mira Bridger was a front; a crude lie invented by Obi-wan Kenobi."

"The Jedi?" Ezra shook his head. "That's a terrible bluff, even for you. I knew my own mother."

"She was not your mother, Ezra."

"What do you mean she wasn't my mother?"

"Discern for yourself; what does the force tell you?"

Ezra scowled and shuffled back. "Stop pretending to be a Jedi!"

"I was a Jedi, just like your master. Unlike him, I learned the truth."

Ezra's lighsaber spun into his hands, scarlet blade glowing. "Don't," he said between gritted teeth. "Don't use Kanan against me!"

"He was a poor excuse for a father."

Visions slammed Ezra's mind and he barely felt the burning wall.  _A woman with dark hair and an angel's smile. The force, strong and clear, the breath and life of a Jedi knight as he sprang from his Starfighter, lightsaber clashing blue against droid fire. Small hands and a narrow chin, laughing brown eyes and an impish expression. Twin engines of a podracer, freedom and challenge woven into the strand between victory and death. Unwavering love in the resilient, tender embrace of a queen. The taste of fire and power, the tenacious desire to live._

Ezra crawled to his knees, gagging. "What was that?"

"Your parents as seen through my eyes. You were adopted on Lothal; taken from your mother and hidden by the traitor Obi-wan."

"That's a lie!" How could he forget his parents? Even fuzzy as the memories were, distorted until a childhood hologram was all Ezra was certain was real, he recognized the fallacy. "My father was not a Jedi!"

"Search your feelings. You know it to be true."

More images. Blue eyes like his own. A peace-loving, daring young woman. Love filling him until he almost imagined himself standing between them as –

"I'm not their son!"

"No, Ezra." Suddenly Vader was behind him, gloved hand firmly clasping Ezra's shoulder. "You are mine."

* * *

"Ezra?"

Hera closed her eyes, preparing to give the same, repetitive answer. "He's not here, Kanan."

 _Gone_ would be the whimpered reply. Kanan would drift, and she would check his fever, and another day would pass in uncertainty. Four days. Hera trembled, wondering how long.

How long before he was lost forever.

"Hera." Her name was spoken in a sigh.

Gasping, Hera whirled to face the bunk. Kanan's eyes were open, drained but lucid for the first time. He slid one arm forward and dropped his hand with a moan.

"Kanan!" Hera ran to his side, shushing his weak attempts, ensuring the stiches in his shoulder hadn't split. "Shh! Hush, love."

"Ezra," Kanan choked out. He coughed wetly, renewing Hera's concern for pneumonia. "F-find?"

She hated it. "No, love. Sleep a little longer."

Kanan grimaced and caught her hand. "S'gone, Hera."

Mutely, she reached for the sedative. "We did everything we could, Kanan."

"Find….. body?"

His voice was so wretched; so childlike. Hera's heart ached as she shook her head.

Kanan blinked wetly and took her hand, squeezing gently. "S'okay. S"gonna be okay."

Devastated and wounded, and he was the one comforting  _her._  Hera wanted to scream.

"Go to sleep, love." Her voice cracked.

He shifted, pulling lightly until Hera knelt beside the bunk. "S'okay," Kanan repeated. "G'sleep, Hera."

"I  _can't_. Someone has to drive this load of scrap metal." If she relaxed she would fall apart, and she wouldn't be able to stop  _thinking_  about –

"Hera." The whisper was so gentle she couldn't pull away. Swallowing the ache that never left her throat, Hera eased onto the bunk and felt Kanan slump marginally as his fingers twined in her own.

"Y'be okay."

Always the protector. Always the strongest when one of his crew was undone. Hera already found herself relaxing, as though the galaxy was at her fearless leader's command and they were but two rebel explorers, with a ship, a droid and a dream.

It would never be that way again. Ezra's death had scored too deep.

But it was a good lie for now.

* * *

"Shhh! I know, Chopper!"

The droid whirled and shrieked, pointing to the bunk and rambling about Kanan's medications, close contact while injured, and the cramped neck Hera would suffer when she woke. Zeb kicked the droid away.

"The Ghost isn't flying anywhere. Go chew on a bolt, you rustbucket."

Chopper rolled away grumbling, and Zeb leaned against the door. For the first time in days Hera had given into sleep - actually lying down properly instead of dozing off in the cockpit. Kanan … he looked as miserable as before, swamped in his tormented mind.

Zeb flicked a drop of moisture from his eye and scowled. "Karabast, kid, even the droid misses you. Not the same sleeping in the room without your snoring. Could've at least given us fair warning before…."

Drearily he shut the door and trudged to the helm. Sabine stared mindlessly at the stars, amber eyes as dead as the mirror Zeb had looked into when his family was killed. He sat heavily across from her, inspecting the recent charts.

"Aft gun needs a tune-up," Sabine said listlessly.

"Already fixed it."

Silence.

"Nice mural," Zeb said dully.

"It's just a black cloud. I ran out of purple."

"It's a change. You painted over your entire room?"

"Nothing there to look at, anyways."

"Well, leave the squabble you painted over my door."

Sabine swiveled the chair, putting her back to him.

"Aw, come on, Sabine!" Zeb tried to muster a smile. "Remember the good times, eh?"

"You can say that."

"Sabine." Sighing, Zeb ran a hand over his head and gave up. "I lost my family twice now, all right? And I'm still moving. Don't give up. The kid wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Ezra isn't  _here._ " Sabine jumped from the chair and stalked away.

Twirling aimlessly, Zeb leaned back and picked out the brightest star. The kid would be bright – if Jedi turned into gas lit bulbs, that is. "Look, kid, this old religion sorcery is ludicrous if you ask me, but I know Kanan needs looking after right now. So… whip up a miracle for him, okay? Show up as a ghost, or give him one of those mind feels you two shared all the time. Just show him it wasn't all in vain."

Snorting, Zeb lowered his eyes to his hands. "I know I think it was."

For a moment he wished he was a Jedi, too. Maybe then he could have told Kanan that the kid said hi.

The thought hurt worse than knowing that a few short weeks ago, Ezra had been griping over a mission.


	17. Voices

At first, Ezra was dumbstruck. Then he started to giggle. Trauma bubbled into hysterics, and Ezra hardly realized he had stopped breathing before he was kneeling before Darth Vader, clutching his throat and trying to cry without air.

"Control yourself," Darth Vader said tonelessly.

"Y-You're my father." Ezra laughed jaggedly and saluted the helmet. "You murdered everyone I know, and now you say you're my father. Does that make the Emperor my real uncle?"

"Don't be stupid, boy. Your father was Anakin Skywalker.  _I_  am Anakin Skywalker."

"I told you earlier that my name was Kanan, didn't I?" He shouldn't be feeling this snarky. He shouldn't be feeling  _anything._  "Can we both admit we lied to each other?"

"You are acting like a simple child. I tell you, I am your father."

"And my father's a Lasat." The memory of Kanan's joke clawed deep.

"This is preposterous. Admit to yourself; you are the son of Skywalker and you belong to me."

Taking a deep breath, Ezra looked steadily into the blank eyepieces. "My father's name was Ephraim Bridger. My mother's name was Mira. My name is Ezra Bridger."

"You are a fool and so was your mother!"

"Really?" Ezra retaliated. "Then where is she? Where is she now?"

Darth Vader's fingers curled into a fist. Ezra quickly gulped in a breath and braced himself. Slowly the Sith lord raised his hand… and then let it drop. Confused, Ezra backed away.

Abruptly Vader spun on his heel. "Your training is finished for the day."

Gasping, Ezra slumped onto the bench.  _Kanan, what is happening to me?_  The coldness he had felt when summoning a dark fyrnock had lodged inside of him weeks ago, and it had never faded.

Somehow, though, it seemed he had won a small victory.

* * *

"Karabast, when I get my hands on that Mandalorian, I'll – !"

"Shh!" Hera hissed, whirling to close Kanan's door.

Zeb twitched, clamped down a shout, flung his hands into the air, and finally exclaimed in a loud whisper, "She took the Phantom!"

"I sent Sabine out for supplies. I needed hydration tablets, stim-shots and chromostring, and if we're lucky a fastflesh medpac."

"You could have asked me to go!"

"Zeb, I need someone to mind the helm. Kanan's been having convulsions, and –"

"Then let the droid do it!"

"Garazeb Orrelios, you know I need you both here right now."

"So we let Sabine run off into the middle of a space port filled with pirates and Imperialists –"

"If you have a better idea, then tell me!"

"She shouldn't be out there on her own! I can't …" Zeb sighed. "We already lost one kid, Hera."

Hera winced and looked away. Briefly she touched his arm. "We all made mistakes, Zeb. Now we have to look after one other."

She looked over her shoulder, nervously flexing her hand. "I need to check on Kanan. Keep an eye on Sabine, will you?"

Zeb folded his arms apprehensively, waiting until the door closed. "That's what I'm trying to do."

* * *

_Ezra, Ezra, Ezra…._

So many times he'd heard those voices. Voices from the past. Life forces he had never seen. Even on Mustafar they found him. He burrowed under the blanket, hoping they would fade.

 _Ezra._  The last one was faint, a tone so familiar that Ezra lunged from the bunk, tripping over his blanket. "Kanan?"

Immediately the voices were silenced. Dropping his gaze, Ezra slumped back into bed and pulled the covers over his head.

_Kid…?_

"Don't talk to me," he whispered back.

The door hissed, cutting off the ethereal communication. Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to remain still.  _Just a few more minutes… Can't we call off training until morning?_

Maybe it was morning. Charred horizons made it difficult to track the days. How long had he been alone?

The bed creaked as an unfamiliar weight settled on the edge. "My son."

"Not your son." Were they really discussing this now?

"I never did tell you about your mother."

No escaping it. Ezra sighed. "My mother was Mira Bridger."

"Her name was Padme Amidala. Her home planet was Naboo; you would have been born there, had she been given the chance."

"Not my mother," Ezra muttered.

"She was a brave and beautiful woman, and kinder than anyone I've known."

Ezra snorted. "That's not hard to believe."

"Mind your tongue, boy." Darth Vader was silent for a few minutes. "She had great plans for you, Ezra. You would have been a pilot; the skills you have now would have been mastered by your fifteenth birthday. Of course, she teased often that you would become an artist or a musician, unless you were a girl – politics would be your only career, then."

The thought of Darth Vader having a daughter – a politician for that matter – was almost enough to make Ezra smile.

"When the rebellion was quenched, I set out to find her. Obi-wan interfered."

"Kanan had a lot of good things to say about that guy," Ezra couldn't resist saying.

"Silence!" Darth Vader paused long enough for Ezra to start fidgeting. "When I would have seen your mother safely out of the Empire's hands, it was Obi-wan who destroyed her, and left me dependent on this mask. So you see, we were both abandoned on Mustafar's shores."

Ezra peeked out long enough to glower at the Sith. "Kanan did not abandon me."

"Use the force, Ezra. Where is he now?"

_Gone._

_They all left you._

_Alone._

"Shut up," Ezra mumbled, sliding his hands over his ears. Gloved fingers pulled them back down again.

"I was unable to protect your mother, but that mistake will not be repeated. From now on, Ezra, you are my son, and I will see to it that you learn the ways of the force."

' _I'm not going to try to train you … Do or do not; there is no try.'_

Ezra scoffed bitterly and turned over. "Thanks, but I already had the dad I wanted."

Glass shattered behind him, and he hated how familiar the thought was: that perhaps he and Darth Vader shared the same temper.

* * *

One week. One week since they had found Kanan half-senseless from grief and hallucinogens. One week since they had forgotten what tranquility meant.

One week since they had lost the reason to laugh.

It was different before the kid. They'd never known what they were missing. They'd thought they had the perfect team.

With Ezra gone, Hera felt like they'd always had a crater blasted through their crew; patches of slain loved ones and broken homeworlds drifting throughout the Ghost, waiting for the one person who could suture those gaps. Ezra had reminded them that family ran deeper than a crew. Even Zeb had grudgingly admitted he liked having a useless kid on board.

Now they were a phantom crew once more.

"I heard you coughing," Hera said as she retrieved the hour's medications.

"S'better sometimes." Kanan winced as he pulled himself up.

"Not too fast, love. Lacerated organs don't take kindly to Jedi maneuvers."

The corner of Kanan's mouth twitched. Hera didn't want to know what memories he was obstructing.

"You need to take these." Hera slid the capsules into Kanan's hand. "I brought some Aitha to wash it down."

"How is Sabine?" Kanan asked roughly. His eyes were closed as though weary, but Hera knew better. Always repressing. Always shoving  _it_  down with the memories of his master.

"We've had a few broken shipments lately, and she seems overzealous about blasting the next stormtrooper, but … as much to be expected."

Kanan sighed and analyzed the pills in his hand. "Find a safe planet. Give the crew a few days …." He coughed gutturally and grabbed the Aitha, nearly choking himself as he tried to take a swig.

"Easy, Kanan!"

"Take a... few days off," Kanan finished. "They need it."

 _You need it more than any of us._  Hera stopped herself from voicing her worries. Kanan didn't need to hear what he already knew.

"I thought it was you." Her tongue lashed out before she could think, and she kicked herself for the admission.

Kanan looked at her with sympathy, already guessing her mind. "You thought I was dead."

Mortified, Hera shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's just that –"

"You felt him in the force."

Astounded, Hera nodded. Ezra's emotions had been so strong that for a moment even  _she_  had been aware.

Kanan closed his eyes painfully. "I heard him, too."


	18. Crumbling

Lava was a voracious beast. It melted whatever it touched and lapped up durasteel and stone. Just a drop had spattered Ezra's foot during training, and it had melted through his boot's shielding and seared his toes. He'd wound up rolling on the smoking ground, yelling between his teeth as he tried to yank his boot off. Darth Vader had watched like the impassive Loth-wolf he was, before Ezra's boot was suddenly force-pulled away. Ezra half expected a tube of bacta to be offered next. Vader's response was cliché.

"You must be prepared to fight through any pain."

_I hate this planet._

Checking to ensure his toes were all intact, Ezra wondered how often he could use the 'refresher card' before Vader locked him in there permanently. It was kind of funny, frustrating a Sith lord with the plaintive 'I need to  _go_!' whine. He wished he had tried it on Zeb when he'd had the chance.

When they were all still alive.

When he wasn't alone.

Sighing, Ezra shoved on his boot again. Lava training and lightsaber burns. He might as well get used to it.

Passing through the shielded halls of the Imperial base, Ezra stared into the hazed clouds. Maybe it was impossible to escape Mustafar.

He was willing to die trying.

* * *

"Lord Vader. Inquisitor Kallus informed me that you have found a new apprentice."

"I was not aware that  _Inquisitor_  Kallus was worthy of his new command."

"He has proved himself useful to me, as will your son."

"… … My master is ever foreseeing."

"It would have been prudent for you to enlighten me yourself. I sensed your confusion in the force."

"He is Padme's son. I will ensure he is trained in the dark side of the force."

"I sense a weakness in your resolve. Perhaps this boy will impede you."

"There is no weakness, Master."

"Then if he fails to comply, you will not hesitate to end him."

"I will do what is necessary."

"Good. The son of Skywalker must never become a Jedi."

Darth Sidious' image vanished and Vader stepped away from the console. He would have a word with Kallus. Perhaps a few techniques from the agent's own droids would warn him never to interfere again.

Stepping to the window, Vader watched his son wander the base. True to Ezra's heedless nature, he had left the shields and chosen to wander the unprotected shores near the lava. He was in no danger.

Vader checked his signature again, just to be sure.

The boy was an enigma. His hatred emanated during training and his rebellion was intolerable, yet he thrived with each new technique and seemed to yearn to know more.

_Kanan was a poor mentor for your skills._

Darth Vader would not lose the boy to the Emperor's misgivings. Ezra would be trained to be invincible. Powerful enough to slay the Emperor. Powerful enough to shake the galaxy to its core.

More powerful, even, than his own father.

* * *

"Stay out of my room, Zeb!"

"Fine! I thought maybe humanoids ate something besides paint fumes once in a while!"

"Ugh!" Sabine flung an empty can against the wall, seething as Zeb's ranting carried down the hall. She stepped from the door and promptly tripped on one of canisters littering the floor. Kicking it aside, Sabine pulled out a new color and aimlessly sprayed the wall. Orange now clashed against black and green. Her room was starting to look like a fermented garbage heap.

Breathing shakily, Sabine tossed the can aside and plopped down. She used to paint for fun. Capturing memories. Laughing at people. Reminding herself that there was more to a home than the family she was born into.

How could Ezra have taken that away?

"Why'd you have to die," Sabine whispered bitterly. "You set us all up. You with your endless flirting, your stupid optimism, your wilful, snobbish, childish, pigheadedness..." Scrubbing furiously at her eyes, Sabine threw another empty can. "I wish Kanan had never dragged you off of Lothal!"

She regretted it immediately. Of course she was glad for the time they had had. It was Ezra who had reminded her that there was good outside of the Empire; that they still had something to fight for. When Kanan had been captured after his brainless idea to hijack the Imperial tower, Ezra convinced them that the Jedi was still alive. He was their hope.

Now that Sabine had tasted that hope, she didn't know how to cope with despair again.

* * *

Hera found Kanan exactly where she expected.

Aft turret, clear skies and scattered stars, chair leaning back as far as possible.

"You're going to ruin all my hard work." Drawing up behind Kanan, Hera massaged his shoulders gently, easing some of the rigid muscles.

"Got tired of lying around."

"Hm, broken bones, torn muscles, bruised organs, minor concussion… It's been a few long weeks. If you heal up properly I suppose we could try a small bucket platoon the next planet we stop at."

"Tatooine's nice this time of year."

"Gallinore is closer."

Kanan shook his head. "Too much forest."

Hera leaned against the chair, watching the stars. "I don't think Sabine would take well to a desert planet." Nor more than Zeb could stand Lothal anymore. The alliterations were too close.

"Geonosis, then. Rocks, dangerous creatures…."

"Imperialists…." Hera glanced down with a reproving frown. "You need to rest, Kanan. You're barely on your feet." How on earth had he managed the ladder?

"I needed the quiet." Green eyes lanced.

He needed time alone. Time to think on what he had lost. Time to remember what could have been. Over and over, from the Jedi Temple to the Raydonia mission, all the things that could have been.

Sighing, Hera slipped onto the armrest and wound Kanan's arm around her shoulders. He grunted, but acceded with a wan smile. These moments alone, without Chopper or Zeb poking in to ask unnecessary questions, were more precious when left unspoken. They were Hera's most cherished memories, the most stable when she had nothing else left.

She heard Kanan's breathing quicken, and knew it was only a matter of time before his barriers crumpled.

"I couldn't protect him," Kanan whispered.

Hera closed her eyes, tucking her head under his chin.  _And I failed both of you._

* * *

The boy was tired. Sapped of hope and ardor. Fighting without a cause. Adrift in the reminiscence of his former life. He would never be a threat to the Empire if this progressed. A soldier needed his captain in order to serve. No warrior stood alone on the front.

Yet still he refuted Vader's claims.

_Alone._

_Alone._

_Alone._

_I am here._  Vader emphasized.

_At my side, you will triumph._

_There is no death. You are invincible._


	19. Resolve

_Clang. Clang. Clang-clang-clang._

Hera followed the noise until she found Chopper by Zeb's bunk, claws rapping on the upper bolts. Crooning high, the droid clanged once more and shook his head.

"No more pranks," Hera murmured, stroking the shivering dome.

With a high pitched whistle Chopper let his claws drag down the frame. He rested for a time, beating his head rhythmically until the frame dented and a fresh scratch marred his paint.

"I know," Hera whispered. "I miss him, too."

A forlorn beep. Chopper reached out to tug down Ezra's blanket and Hera crouched beside, him, tucked the fabric securely around the droid. Whimpering disconsolately, Choppered hunkered into the last remnants of his friend. Hera sat with him until her legs numbed and her back ached. Eventually Zeb trudged inside, rubbing his neck from too many nights spent in the helm. He glanced at Chopper, froze, and mumbled an apology before grabbing his own blanket and walking out.

No one wanted to share the room with a ghost.

* * *

"Lord Vader –"

"Your transmission has come at an inopportune time. Speak plainly,  _Inquisitor."_

Kallus' eyes narrowed. He was trying to appear confident, but his arms shifted behind his back. The restless commander was fooling around with his gloves again.

"There were complications with the rebel insurgent. He has escaped."

Kallus' left eye winced. He would be kneeling before Vader, begging for mercy, if he realized what this meant for his career. Demotion to cadet would be praiseworthy indeed, if Darth Vader felt so inclined to spare his life.

"Wait for me on Eriadu. We will discuss this."

"Yes, my lord."

Clenching his fist , Darth Vader listened for the crumple of metal around him. That mindless fool could have cost him everything. If the Jedi had escaped his cell, the bond between master and padawan might still be reached.

But well for Ezra Skywalker, Darth Vader had planned for this moment.

Retreating to the wall, he opened the casing and removed one of many syringes.

"Bring me a prisoner from the Kashyyyk rebellion," he spoke into the com.

It was time for Ezra's final lesson.

* * *

"So, what... no training? ... Is this a lesson in patience? Cause it's really boring. ... You're not focusing on anything. ... Can you get any more mysterious? ... Hey, Buckethead, I've been talking to you for the last twenty minutes! ... Come on … Vader, old man? ... Can I go inside if this is it? ... You're still not paying attention. ... Isn't this about focus? It clearly isn't working. … Hey, Dad, can I kill the Emperor? …. Ugh, what is wrong with you?"

The boy was no less amusing for his childish tactics. Darth Vader centered his  _focus_  on the com, waiting for the prison shuttle to arrive. He toyed with the syringe.

A small dosage of Bavo Six, diluted with a natural stimulant, would open the senses to the force without inducing the same terror Ezra had felt during his master's "death throes". Coupled with urgency and a leap of panic, and the boy would experience the dark side without understanding his own reaction. Once Ezra realized the futility of the Jedi Path, he would capitulate all too quickly.

It was for the better, after all. The Emperor was not one to be kept waiting for results.

Ezra looked up in confusion as a small transport swerved towards the base. Weaponless, he instinctively retreated, drawing closer to Vader. A wave of confidence was sent to the boy; congratulations for choosing the right guardian.

"Sir!" The Imperial guard saluted, coughing in the heat. "The Kashyyyk rebel as you ordered."

Ezra inhaled sharply as a bound Wookie was pulled from the transport. "Wait – what are you doing?"

"Leave us," Darth Vader ordered the commander. Saluting once more, the guard hastened to his transport.

"What's going on?" Ezra demanded. His uncertainty overwhelmed his boldness; gone was the incessant cheek.

"It is time you learned what becomes of those who deny the Empire." Swiftly Vader twisted Ezra's arm back and stabbed the needle into his shoulder. The boy slumped, gritted out a cry, and scowled as he was released.

"What was that for?"

"Your final lesson."

Approaching the Wookie, Darth Vader theatrically activated his lightsaber. The rebel backed away with a growl. His fear rivalled Ezra's as his feet scraped near the lava pit.

"Wait – no, no, no, no!" Ezra's voice faltered as he reached to stop Vader. "No, you don't have to teach me this! I know! The – the dark side is better. Light is bad. The Jedi – the Jedi were wrong, okay! What more do you want me to say?"

"Swear your allegiance."

Sweat ran down Ezra's face as he curled his fingers, trying to stop the fatal moment. "I…."

"Swear your allegiance to me."

The blade arched forward, scouring a line down the Wookie's arm. Howling, the Wookie thrashed in Vader's force-grip, his fur already smoldering from the nearby lava.

"Okay! Okay! I swear it!" Ezra shouted. "I swear allegiance!"

"To your father."

Ezra stiffened, hyperventilating. "D-Dad," he finally croaked.

"To your master."

The boy slumped. "Please don't."

"What did I tell you?"

The Wookie cried a warning, but Ezra was too desperate. "Master," he whispered faintly.

"I can't hear you."

"Master." Blue eyes as lethal as the fire pits were raised defiantly, and Ezra lifted his hand to match Darth Vader's force. "Let him go."

"Then save him yourself." Slinging his hand wide, Darth Vader hurled the Wookie towards the lake.

"No!" Sprinting to the edge, Ezra flung out both hands. Darth Vader pushed against the boy's efforts, inch by inch drawing the creature towards death. The boy's efforts were admirable, but any moment now he would –

"No!  _No! No!_ "

The dark side rammed Vader and he sailed into a pillar. Staggered, he watched the darkness visibly gather around Ezra, black waves pummeling Mustafar's shores as the Wookie was dragged back to safety. For an instant Darth Vader heard Padme's voice, and wondered what he had done.

Her son would be powerful in the dark side, indeed.

But it was all in vain.

As soon as the Wookie reached land, Ezra turned and steadily met Vader's eyes.

"I said, let him go."

Request granted.

The boy had lost his focus. A simple push, the singe of burnt flesh, the widening of Ezra's eyes, and the skirmish was at its end. With a cry Ezra fell back, raising his hand as lava spattered his face, screaming until his voice cracked and his lungs deflated from coughing.

Callously Darth Vader strode forward, grabbing the boy's chin. "Do not defy me again."

He left his son in a sniveling heap, nursing his wounds and his paltry sense of conviction. Ezra's next words should have been his first alarm.

"I'm not going to be your pawn."

Darth Vader paused but did not turn. "Shall we repeat this lesson?"

Slowly Ezra rose, brushing off his singed clothing. "I'm not going to kill for you. I'm a Jedi – just like Kanan, just like my father  _was_."

"Don't use that identity against me. The boy of the past was destroyed in return for a greater master."

"Is this what Padme would have wanted?" Ezra shouted. "Is this what she foresaw of my  _great future_?"

"Do not speak her name!"

"Why not? What was she to you? Did Obi-wan really kill her, or was she another one of your victims? How did she really die,  _father?_ "

He reacted without thinking, and Ezra's scream was cut off as his back slammed into a pillar. Whimpering, the boy drew himself upright, drawing ever closer to the lake.

"I'm not going to be like you," he croaked. "I'm not going to fail my master."

"Your allegiance is to me; you swore it yourself."

Grinning bloodily, Ezra shook his head. "Not anymore."

He spun, leapt, and for a moment was suspended over the lava.

For the first time in fifteen years, Darth Vader was terrified.


	20. Breach in the Force

" _Ezra, no!_ "

Hera tumbled out of bed and scrabbled for the light. Even through the Ghost's walls, she could hear Kanan's nightmares. "Hold on, love," she mumbled, stumbling for the door.

Kanan met her halfway.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Hera exclaimed as he collapsed.

"That's what I was saying!" Zeb growled. He helped Kanan stand, supporting most of the Jedi's weight. "Trying some new, lunatic errand to kill himself, that's what he's doing."

"Sabine, turn the ship around!" Kanan gasped.

"That's Hera, and you're delirious."

Shaking his head frantically, Kanan shoved at Zeb's hands. "Hera!"

"Sh! Sh! Zeb, put him down; he's panicking."

Dubiously Zeb released Kanan and Hera knelt beside him, cupping his clammy face.

"Hush, love! You're on the Ghost. It's all right."

"Ezra!" Kanan spluttered. "He's – we gotta go back!"

"Back to what?" Zeb snapped. "The asteroid?"

"Not dead, not …." Kanan breathed shallow and fast, grabbing Hera's wrist. "The Imperials … he's alive."

"What?"

Instantly Hera whirled and shouted at the cockpit, "Sabine, make for Eriadu!"

"Are you crazy? They've plastered images of the Ghost all over that quadrant!"

"Do it, Sabine!"

"Not – Eriadu," Kanan sucked in a breath, his eyes starting to roll back.

"Stay with me, Kanan!" Hera tapped his cheek. "How do you know? Where are we looking?"

With awful certainty Kanan looked her in the eye. "He's taken him to Mustafar."

"Who? C'mon Kanan, we need more than that." Zeb waved at Hera, signaling with his hands.  _Stall him. It's the sedatives talking. I'll drag him back to his bunk._

"No time, Zeb!" Hera barked. "Get the coordinates to Sabine."

And then she felt it, too; the crescendo that rocked the ship, fervor and desperation crumpling her own ordinary soul.

Kanan grabbed Hera's wrist and screamed.

* * *

The force suspended them.

Chose them.

Bonded them together.

Ezra felt agony in Darth Vader's pull. Anguish. Remorse. Horror.

He wondered if the Sith lord knew he felt the same.

_Kanan, I'm so sorry._

He heard his master's voice, felt the slivers of their bond brush for an instant, and he knew Kanan would be waiting.

Lava sprinkled the toe of his boot, and he had a split second to wonder how long it would take to die.

Suddenly the force yanked him back. Kanan's scream rippled with Darth Vader's, dark and light linking for the same purpose. The air hissed and rock loomed before Ezra rolled onto the ground, hot shale slicing through his Imperial uniform.  _Not good, not good, not –_

The momentum crashed him into Vader's pillar.

_Kanan!_

Darkness.

* * *

One second.

One twinge of focus.

One flicker of hesitation, and it almost cost him his son.

He had felt Kanan's interference. With Ezra's fearless resolve, how could the Jedi not have noticed his padawan's life force? For once, Darth Vader was grateful for the meddler.

Stunned, he had been a second too late.

The cursed Jedi had intervened where Vader had failed, dragging Ezra back from the lake.

Kanan deserved his claim on the boy's life. That was a privilege he would never attain.

Checking Ezra's breathing, Darth Vader scooped him up and carried him indoors. A force-inhibitor was in order, lest the boy make another suicidal attempt. His words haunted Vader.

" _I'm not going to be your pawn."_

Few Jedi Masters were so resilient; let alone an unlearned apprentice. The implications were all too clear:

The Emperor must never learn that Padme's son had survived Mustafar.

Darth Vader would travel back with word that the son of Skywalker had been eradicated.

He would deal with Kallus and confiscate the Lothal rebels.

When all was finished, Ezra would be presented with Kanan's lightsaber, and his training would continue in secret.

Darth Vader would not fail a second time.

Sliding the needle into his son's neck, he pitilessly sank in the drug.

* * *

Kanan stumbled, cracked his head against the wall, and fell in a tangled heap.

"Kanan! Kanan, stop this! You have to lie down!"

"No, no, he's gone, he's – he can't be – I can't feel him!"

"Kanan, enough!"

"He isn't there!" Kanan's words stuttered and he fell back, leaning his head against Hera's hand. "It's too late."

Hera felt cold. "What do you mean?"

"He … he fell." Gritting his teeth, Kanan forced himself to stand. His eyes took on that same dead look as when he had first regained coherency three weeks ago. Breathing raggedly, Kanan braced his hand on the overhang and reached for his empty holster. "Keep going."

"Kanan…."

"Go!" The fervor in his eyes frightened Hera. "Don't stop. We set course for Mustafar. I'm going to end this."

Hera knew she should warn him; signify his anger and remind him of the path to the dark side. She nodded slowly and braced Kanan's arm, guiding him to the cockpit.

"So, at which rocky outcrop do you want us to start looking?"


	21. Foundling

_There is no death, there is the force. There is no death, there is the force. There is no death, there is the force…_

So he hadn't exactly died, but the force wasn't helping, either. Who invented that stupid line, anyways?

_There is no force, there's the ridiculous voice in my head that keeps saying…_

_"Ezra!_  Karabast, kid…"

The force wasn't supposed to cuss like that.

"I can't believe… Sabine, tell Hera to get the ship running! We're dragging Kanan back with us."

"Zeb, we're not even supposed to be here!"

 _Sabine is a Jedi?_  Only Jedi talked in the force, right? Or maybe the serum was spurring illusions again. Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, pawing at the fog in his mind.  _Just go. Please. Leave me alone._

"And I say orders change!" Zeb's voice rallied. "Go find that loafer and tell him I'm bringing in the kid."

"…. Zeb…. He said... There wouldn't be a body."

"Would you just get in here, Sabine?"

A large hand ruffled Ezra's hair, like a child finding a long-lost bear. He heard a gasp from the far right, a shriek that almost sounded like Sabine.

But it wasn't her.

It wasn't them.

It was just another one of those dreams he wanted to last forever.

* * *

 _Karabast,_  he didn't know why he was following Kanan onto this filthy planet. The kid was gone. Zeb was willing to let him rest. Hunting down a Sith lord would end in two things: a dead Jedi, and an equally dead Lasat.

Still, jamming his bo-rifle into Vader's eye socket was a diverting thought.

Maybe that's why he was stupid enough to leave the ramp – besides the fact that Sabine had already run off on her own. Reckless snip needed someone pulling her out of Imperial hands.

Naturally, they would both lose Kanan in the blasted smog. Karabast, Zeb hated this! One wrong move – one inch too close to a Sith lord, and the Ghost would become more than a physical spirit.

"Haunting Mutafar forever," Zeb grunted. "Fine way to go; right alongside the rest of the Je…."

His eyes flickered to the security holos. Glancing both ways, Zeb tapped the console, waving aside different rooms. "Come on, Vader, show your face."

No crew members or workers. No Imperial Starfighters, either. It seemed the whole base had been abandoned. Just locked doors, a few droids, and ….

"Karabast!"

He was skidding down halls, shoving doors aside, crunching panels in dismay when he entered the wrong room. Finally, three halls in, he found the only door guarded by five IG-100's.

"Thought the crummy lot was antique by now," Zeb muttered, reaching for his bo-rifle. He paused, then shrugged and pulled out a blaster. A few bolts to the head and the ancient droids fell apart. "Should've stuck with the storm troopers."

Sprinting to the door, he punched the keypad. "C'mon, open up, you –"

The barrier slid and he lunged inside, bo-rifle ready for any more droids. The room was empty.

Save for the brat Zeb thought had been reunited with his parents long ago.

"Kid…." Zeb edged forward, touching the inky, grimy hair. "Ezra…."

Ezra shifted and tucked his head into his arms. Hiding from  _him_.

"Karabast, kid… I can't believe… I never knew. I didn't –" Boggled, Zeb remembered his comlink. "Sabine!" he shouted into it, daring to touch the kid's shoulder. "Come on, pick up…."

Ezra wasn't moving. With infinite care Zeb rocked his shoulder. "Kid? Come on, Ezra. Look at me."

Burns dotted the scarred cheek. His breathing was irregular. He should be awake, then; talking; making some idiotic quip like he could never shut up.

"Oh, for pity's sake, use the – Sabine?"

"Zeb." Sabine sighed his name. "We need to get Kanan back to the Ghost. He's lost his mind. There's no one here, and any minute Hera's going to –"

"Well, tell Hera to get the ship running!" Zeb thought he sounded  _too_  gleeful, and he didn't care. "We're dragging Kanan back with us."

"We're not even supposed to be here, Zeb!" Sabine growled in frustration. "You talk to him. He gave specific orders not to leave without word of Vader."

"And I say orders change! Go find that loafer and tell him I'm bringing in the kid."

"…. Zeb…." Sabine's voice cracked. "He said …. There wouldn't be a body."

Zeb rolled his eyes. "Look, would you just do it?"

Sabine sighed resignedly. "Hold on – I'm coming in."

Four minutes. He checked the kid's breathing, hoped there were no broken bones, calculated how he would explain it to Hera when….

"Zeb, I think we should just –"

Sabine's voice broke off in a squeal that he would tease her for later. She backed into the wall, warily removing her helmet.

"Is that ….?"

"It's him." Probably was safe to lift the kid. Carefully Zeb eased his hands under the small frame, fighting down that block in his throat that was anything but emotion. "Karabast, he's scrawny – more than usual, I mean."

"Is he…."

"Can't form a coherent sentence, can you?" Zeb cracked a smile. "Come take a look."

Sabine pattered closer, her fingers brushing Ezra's cheek. Gasping, she rested her hand on his forehead. "He's alive!"

"For now. Let's get him off this dump, 'fore that blasted Sith spawn returns."

Amber eyes snapped up and Sabine nodded. "Spectre Five to Ghost," she spoke into the com. "Two returning to the ship. I'm off to find Kanan."

"Whoa, whoa!" Zeb growled. "I'm not finding one of you twits only to have the other vanish on another suicidal quest. We'll meet at the Ghost, then  _I'll_  search for Kanan."

"We work together, remember?"

Well, he wasn't fighting  _that_  snapfire look. "Yeah, yeah." Zeb rolled his eyes. "Come on; the kid's in dire need of a nutrient bar." And a few hundred bacta patches. And an overdue visit with his missing crew.

"Spectre One, this is Spectre Five." Even before they left the room, Sabine was jabbering orders. "We found Spectre Six. Repeat, we found Spectre Six."

" _What?"_

"Would you please not shout into the com? Meet us at the Ghost. We'll catch you up on the details."

"Not until I find Vader."

"There is no Vader here!" Zeb yelled into Sabine's helmet. "If we don't move fast, none of us well be here, either – particularly a certain snotty-nosed padawan of yours. So scamper back to the ship or stay where we can find you, cause I'm not training the brat if you kill yourself."

"… On my way."

"How did he get so far out?" Sabine grumbled.

"He's  _Kanan_. He can  _do_  things us ordinary folk find impossible."

"Yeah, well maybe a little more  _ordinary_  would be good for those two right now."

Holding the kid a little tighter – just a little, it wasn't like he was getting fond of him or anything – Zeb chuckled grimly. "Right you are, Sabine."

* * *

He didn't know what had happened. One moment he had been hunting, the force a whisper of caution shoved into the back of his mind, his single goal to track Vader and bring him down once and for all.

A call from Sabine. A grumble from Zeb. A sense that  _maybe_  something was right.

The next moment he was running, pelting down rickety scaffolds, flinging himself to the lower levels, reaching out with a ferocity he thought was lost.

_Ezra!_

There! It was barely recognizable; a trick in the force concealing him from Kanan's mind.

He didn't need the force to know his padawan was alive.

Kanan swung down the last railing, bolting to the landing platform where Sabine and Zeb were just reaching the Ghost. Sabine tapped Zeb's arm and the Lasat turned, and all that Kanan could focus on was –

 _Dangblast it!_  His back chose that moment to remind him of the Empire's lingering effects. Kanan rolled in a flurry of undignified Jedi, limbs askew and pain hollering in every bone.

"Aw, come on now!" Zeb yowled, shoveling Ezra into Sabine's arms. She eeped a cry, flailed backwards, and was balanced by a chittering, exhilarated Chopper. Galloping to Kanan, Zeb easily slung him over one shoulder, ignoring the  _'oomph!'_  of protest.

"If you can gallivant across Mustafar, those ribs can't be hurt any worse."

"Garazeb Orrelios, get him inside right now!" Hera snapped over the com. Zeb and Kanan exchanged a worried look.

"Well, it was nice seeing your padawan before Mother Hera took over." Zeb shrugged. Kanan cursed and wrapped an arm around his ribs.


	22. Twisted

"Ezra. Ezra, look at me. Don't give up just now."

Whirl of green. Blue paint staining the walls with the rebel symbol. A trashed hull that looked suspiciously like the Ghost. Ezra moaned and rubbed his palms against his eyes.

_It's just a dream. It won't last. Don't start hoping. Five minutes from now, everything will vanish._

_Just wait for it._

_... A few minutes more._

_You're alone, remember?_

"Ezra? Kanan, he's not responding."

It wasn't Hera. That wasn't hot chocolate in her hand, spicy and sweet like Sabine used to make it. It wasn't Kanan beside her, arm tied to his chest and crutch supporting his weight.

Those dreams were getting to be alarmingly accurate, though. He could almost smell tang bark in the cocoa.

"Come on, kid." Kanan's hand rested warmly on his forehead and he leaned into it, relishing the memory of touch. It felt so  _real_. "Talk to me."

"If I do you'll go away," Ezra murmured.

"I'm not going anywhere."

_Yeah, you always say that, too._

"Ezra, don't be stubborn." With a grimace Kanan crouched, taking the hot chocolate from Hera and wagging it invitingly. He took a sip and smacked appreciatively before waving it under Ezra's nose. "Sabine's specialty. Drink up."

It probably tasted divine. Reluctantly Ezra shook his head. Kanan looked disappointed.

"Ezra." There was equal longing in his voice, as though Kanan was the dreamer and he dreaded that Ezra would be gone when he woke.

"Don't go," Ezra pleaded, catching his master's wrist. The coarse glove slid under his fingers. Tangible. So terribly alive.

"I'm staying right here, Ezra."

A presence poked at Ezra's mind, requesting entrance. He sank into it yearningly.  _Kanan._

 _I'm here, kid._ So much fear in Kanan's thoughts. After the last bout with the Inquisitor, such an emotion had become foreign to his mind.

With that, Ezra knew the dream was faking everything.

"No, you're not," he said plainly, and closed his eyes.

Dreams were awful places, because they made waking up all the harder.

* * *

Kanan crouched in dismay, hot chocolate cooling in his wavering hand, eyes latched onto the apprentice who was successfully blocking him out. Hera's heart yearned for them both.

"Give him time, love," she said, urging him to stand.

"I thought he was gone."

So far away. They were lost, searching for one another, and all attempts only shoved the other further away.

"I watched Vader kill him," Kanan whispered. "I saw him … brutally … I couldn't …." He scrubbed his wrist over his face, mindless of the cocoa sloshing onto his pants. "I couldn't see outside of the hallucinogens. When they brought me an autopsy report – what else was I to do?"

"No one knew better," Hera said. "We all thought he was dead."

"I can't reach him." Sighing, Kanan set the half-full cup down and laid his hand on Ezra's brow. The kid twitched, feigning sleep, but Hera saw his fingers creep towards Kanan's sleeve and latch on. Sighing, Kanan lowered himself until he could sit comfortably against the bunk.

Before Hera could speak the door flew open and Chopper paraded inside with a tray holding eight cups of hot chocolate. Wheeling around excitedly, he tossed a pillow at Ezra and balanced the tray on Kanan's head.

"Chopper!" Kanan yowled. "Not a good time!"

Blue eyes widened at the display, and Ezra started to giggle. Encouraged, Chopper batted the tray on Kanan's head until hot chocolate splashed in tiny streams. Ezra's chortle deepened into a laugh, until he was clutching his stomach, almost crying ….

Kanan stopped smiling.

The kid  _was_  crying.

"Stop it!" A snap of the force sent Chopper's tray hurdling into the wall. "Just stop it! I know you're not real, so leave me alone!"

"Ezra!" Kanan struggled to his feet, alarmed when Ezra released his sleeve and shoved him away.

"Just go! Get out! I don't –" Sobbing, Ezra buried his face in his knees. "I don't want you here anymore."

"What are you talking about?" Kanan said hoarsely. "I thought –"

"Kanan." Hera's warning was useless. Ezra's eyes snapped up, focused solely on the Jedi.

"I know what you're playing at, and I know who you are. You're not my master!"

The pulse of darkness sent Kanan reeling, legs crumpling, shoulder throbbing under the strain. The lights above crackled and Chopper crashed against the wall.

"Ezra!" Hera screamed. She grabbed the cocoa tray and rapped him smartly over the head. Instantly the throes of power ceased. Kanan raised himself to one elbow, gasping.

"Chopper, get Zeb in here stat!" Hera pulled Kanan upright, dragging him out of the room. "No one else enters until we know what kind of hallucinogens he's on."

"It wasn't a hallucinogen," Kanan grated.

"Then  _what_?" Hera pleaded

"I don't … I don't know." Kanan was afraid of the answer.

Darth Vader had done more than abduct their hope.

He had twisted Ezra into his own demented padawan.

* * *

(Tang bark is the Star Wars variation for Cinnamon)


	23. Surreal

"What do you mean, no one is allowed to see him? You let Kanan in."

"Well, no one really expects Kanan to listen." Zeb grouched.

"Sabine, until we know what happened to Ezra, visitors are off limits," Hera said gently. "We don't want anyone else getting hurt."

"But we're his family!" Sabine persisted. "That's what he needs right now - not Kanan or Zeb locking him away because he can't control himself."

Hera's brow arched. "Sabine Wren, you know we can't risk a force storm on this ship. If Darth Vader - "

"Then why suspect Ezra? Why not Kanan? He was captured twice by the Empire."

"Sabine - "

"Hera, it doesn't make sense! Why would Ezra hurt us?"

Hera rubbed her forehead haggardly. "Because he almost injured Kanan."

"He... uh... threw him into the wall," Zeb said.

Sabine opened and closed her mouth uselessly, then shook her head. "I can't believe... He  _wouldn't_."

"Not the Ezra we know," Hera said gravely. "Kanan trusts him... and so do I. But we can't take any chances."

* * *

Whatever serum Darth Vader had shot him with, it was causing a doozy of a hallucination. Ezra cradled his head in his hands, trying to ignore Sabine's nervous laughter, Chopper's incessant squawking, the 'whuffs' of Kanan's snores.

This wasn't his room. Vaguely he remembered it belonged to Kanan – hence the Jedi Master curled awkwardly in a nearby chair – but the serene atmosphere was unnerving. Long hours of training and attempted meditation had taken place in this room. It haunted his visions with Kanan's death.

So what was he doing here?

Too achy to care, Ezra stretched and plodded into the hall. His stomach growled disturbingly. It would be nice to actually taste something he remembered, before the dream switched paths and he woke up with ration cubes for breakfast.

"Ezra?" Sabine paused mid-conversation, three mugs dangling from one finger. "You okay?"

Another vision like the ones in the Temple. Pretty soon they'd decide to kick him out – just before Vader killed them.

"Hey, kid," Zeb said hesitantly. "Um, try not to–"

"Ezra, I'm putting these away," Sabine interrupted brightly as she demonstrated the mugs. "Walk me to the kitchen?"

"Walk me to the kitchen?" Zeb clapped his forehead. "Next you'll be proposing."

Sabine slapped him, and Ezra smiled crookedly. It would never last, but he was glad to see them arguing one last time. Patting Chopper's head, he followed Sabine.

"There's still some chocolate in the conservator," Sabine said as she placed the mugs in an upper cupboard. Right where Ezra knew they should be. He sorted through them, selecting the chipped, lopsided cup that looked like a melted Tie pilot's helmet.

"Your favorite," Sabine said carefully.

Ezra snorted. "I haven't lost my memory."  _Just my family._

"Oh, well… that's good to know."

Some dream. Zeb was peeking around the door, and Chopper was busy nipping at the Lasat's heels. It was like they expected him to whip out a red lightsaber – oh, right; his lightsaber  _was_  red thanks to that crystal Vader had put in.

"You guys don't have to be afraid of me," Ezra said coolly.  _I'm not a Sith._

"We're not afraid, Ezra," Sabine said. "Just … uncertain."

"Yeah, especially since you threw Kanan into a wall," Zeb added. He shrugged at Sabine's glower. "What?"

"I threw Kanan into a wall?" Ezra stuttered. He steadied himself, remembering that it was only a dream, and dreams were quick to forgive. "Oh… well… It was an accident."

Here was where they would nod sympathetically – or if it was a nightmare, declare him to be evil and return him to the Imperialists.

Zeb wriggled his shoulders apprehensively. "Right, well… try not to have any more accidents. Kanan was already complaining about a headache."

That was new.

Shivering, Ezra poured himself a cup of cold chocolate and grabbed the first edible thing on the shelf. Zeb watched impartially before yawning.

"Aw, he's too quiet. I'd almost like to see him throwing things again. Maybe then we'll start getting back to normal."

Ezra's hands shook and he dropped the plate, his cocoa rescued by Sabine at the last moment.

"Ezra, what's wrong? What are you –"

"J-Just stop, okay! Just disappear – or die – or whatever you want to end this with. I'm ready to wake up now."

Sabine stepped over the broken glass and Ezra skittered back, cornered against the central counter.

"Ezra, you are awake," Sabine said gently. "It's us. You're not on Mustafar any longer."

"You think I haven't heard that fifty times already?" Ezra glanced feverishly at the door. Hounded on one side and trapped on the other. "You don't have to lie to me. I've seen  _every_  variation of how this dream ends."

"I should get Kanan," Zeb said direly.

"Wait!" Sabine called. She remained motionless, hands spread innocuously, posture slowly relaxing. "Ezra, you can leave the room whenever you want."

Stunned, he eased to the end of the counter. "Leave whenever I want." Leave the dream, or exit the room long enough to hear their agonized screams?

"Whenever you want," Sabine repeated. "Zeb and I won't hold you back. You can go to your own room, or to the aft turret if you like. No one will disturb you."

"Um, Sabine, isn't that exactly what we're supposed to be doing right now?" Zeb asked. "Looking after him, I mean?"

Sabine glared at the Lasat. "No one will disturb you," she emphasized to Ezra.

Okay, fine. New twist in the dream. He could handle it.

In fact, the peace and solicitude was exactly what Ezra needed. He skirted Chopper and slunk into the hall, avoiding his own room. Ignoring Hera's worried look (and how badly he wanted to hug her), he clambered into the top gunner. Vision or reality, the stars were the same. Sabine could have pointed out the constellations and told him which planet they were approaching. Chopper probably would have zapped the ladder below. Kanan….

Sinking into the chair, Ezra squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay, wake up," he whispered. He didn't want to; he wanted to hold onto their memories forever. But this … this was getting ridiculous.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up…."

"You know, Sabine told me you were acting weird, but I didn't think it was that serious."

Ezra bit his tongue before he could shout Kanan's name.  _No, no, no! I can't watch you die again!_

"Mind if I join you?" Before Ezra could refuse, Kanan crawled into the turret, balancing between the ladder and chair like a crippled squirrel.

"Kanan, what are you doing?" Hera called from below.

"Nothing. Go pilot a supply run; the kid and I need to talk."

"... I'm not sure this is safe."

"Hera, go make a cup of tea if you're worried."

The Twi'lek sighed irritably. "Fine. If you break both legs, I'm dumping the bacta."

Kanan snorted. "You don't use bacta for broken bones."

"Like you should know by now." Rolling her eyes, Hera shrugged and wandered away. "Tell Sabine, if there's a medical emergency, I'm napping."

"Overbearing captain," Kanan grumbled. He shifted one leg, and Ezra refuted the dream-logic that people shouldn't change uniforms and invest in splints when they were dead. He studied his hands meticulously, picking at the bandages around his fingers.

"Hey, watch out there," Kanan cautioned. "You had some serious burns."

Ezra found more bacta strips stretched over his face. There was a lumpy support cushioning his back. Funny, he thought dreams were supposed to be painless. He scrubbed at a fuel stain on his jumpsuit, glad the Imperial uniform had been exchanged.

"You were unconscious for over a day," Kanan said somberly. "We thought you were dead."

His voice hitched slightly. He was still looking at Ezra as though it was  _his_  dream that was falling apart.

"I saw you die," Ezra said quietly. He stripped one bandage from his finger, wincing when it pulled at a raw blister. "You don't have to keep pretending."

"Ezra."

The fervency was  _too_ Kanan. Ezra turned his back before he could give in, wiping his sleeve over his eyes. He heard Kanan sigh.

"Maybe I should show you."

A hand on his head. Kanan's touch. "W-wait…."  _Don't go!_ he wanted to beg.

Slowly the overhead window faded, replaced with grey halls and droning overhead lights, white armor and dread siphoning everything that was good in the force.

For the first time, Ezra saw himself through Kanan's eyes.


	24. Hallucinations

" _Hold him down!"_

" _Don't move, Jedi!"_

" _Do it quick."_

_The stab of a needle was not unfamiliar. He expected lethargy to follow, perhaps with a dose of 'susceptibility' if Kallus had questions on his agenda._

_When the wall seemed to bulge out to strike him, Kanan knew it was something far worse. The troopers melted into writhing Krayts, blaster-claws reaching out to Ezra._

" _No! Leave the boy!" Kanan grunted as a boot smashed his ribs. Pain gored his chest like a metal rod. Coughing breathlessly, he strained to find Ezra amidst the mass of white limbs._

_Suddenly the troopers parted, and Darth Vader stood as imposing and clear as a lightsaber in the darkness. Ezra flailed in his grip, arching as a needle plunged into his shoulder._

" _Ezra!" More hands held Kanan down. He bucked and slung out the force, enveloping his padawan in calm._

_I'm here. It's all right. Just go. Don't let him twist you for my sake._

Run _._

_Crimson extended from Darth Vader's hand, and Kanan's throat closed in._

_It wasn't meant for him._

" _No – No!"_

_Ezra recoiled against Vader's arm, yelling between his teeth as the blade singed his wrist._

" _Leave him!" Kanan thrashed and was cut off by a fist in the gut. "D-don't," he croaked._

_Don't hurt him!_

_A flash of scarlet. A shriek that raked his mind, piercing every pure memory, until Kanan was writhing from his padawan's pain._

_With a sobbing yelp Ezra fell to his knees, hands clapped over his eyes. His once whole, audacious blue eyes that had told Kanan everything._

" _Enough! You've done enough!" Kanan twisted free, arching to put himself between Ezra and Vader. "If you want to torture someone, take me! He can't threaten you anymore!"_

" _You are deceived if you think an irrational child can impede the Empire."_

_The wall lashed out to receive him, and Kanan hollered as the lightsaber swung once more._

_He wanted to close his eyes._

_He wanted to hide Ezra in the force; to shelter him from the pain._

_He wished he had left the boy on Lothal, where hunger was his only enemy._

_When the lightsaber was sheathed at last, leaving a whimpering, limbless mass of blackened flesh, Kanan only wished Darth Vader would end it for both of them. When black boots stepped before him and the dark side tainted every good memory of his padawan, Kanan yearned for a lightsaber and a killing stroke of revenge._

_When blaster fire erupted and Ezra's twitching stopped, Kanan understood what it meant to sever a bond._

_The agony almost matched the pain he had felt from Ezra, moments before the troopers ended his life._

* * *

Blackness. Spinning. Shouting and two arms surrounding him before he slammed against the floor and heard an accompanying groan.

" _Kanan_  – What did I tell you about climbing up there? Ugh! Sabine, where's the bacta?"

Ezra pried his eyes open, blinking sluggishly as Imperial halls drifted back into the hull of the Ghost. "K-Kanan?"

Rolling to his elbows, Kanan glanced over Ezra quickly. "I didn't mean to make you fall. I guess it was unexpected… for both of us."

_Please, don't push me away again,_  his eyes shouted.  _I need you just as much right now._

"Kanan, I – what happened?" Ezra choked, digging his hands into his eyes. "You - you were dead! I saw –"

"Hallucinogens," Kanan said, sliding up beside his padawan. "They must have injected you first; I tried to close your mind to everything, but I couldn't sense you."

"K-Ka –" Gasping, Ezra lurched into Kanan's arms, burying his face as his shoulders heaved.

"I know, kid." Saltwater dripped onto Ezra's neck. "I'm not letting you go."

When Hera tiptoed from the hall minutes later, she took one look and quietly left the medkit in the doorway. For a moment she paused, witnessing the victory as her lost boys were pulled out of their nightmares. Ezra was wound around Kanan, crying uncontrollably, clinging to the man who was almost a father. Hera pretended she didn't see her fearless leader crumple. Smiling softly, she slipped away.

If she had been a Jedi, she might have seen their bond fusing once more.

But since she wasn't a Jedi, she took the emotional reunion as confirmation enough, and told Sabine to prepare more cocoa.

 


	25. Nightmares

Everyone on the Ghost had nightmares occasionally. Ezra usually woke with a holler, looked around in disorientation, and flopped down snoring seconds later. Sabine never talked in her sleep (as far as Hera knew), but she twitched agitatedly, and had punched Zeb once after the Lasat tried to wake her. Several times Hera had stumbled into the kitchen after a late night run, only to find Zeb broodily nursing a claing. Hera's own nightmares always involved falling, reaching out for someone close before the galaxy spun beneath her crushed ship.

She could only imagine what Kanan's dreams had been like after the temple. They had run so many night ops together that they could almost predict each other's sleeping patterns. Kanan would fidget, murmur distressingly, shout once or twice, and suddenly bolt upright, gasping erratically before he settled back down to feign sleep. He never talked about it, and Hera wouldn't intrude.

Recently,  _everyone_  was getting out of hand.

Zeb's late night excursions to the kitchen were becoming routine checkups between the kids' rooms. Sabine had started shouting, flinging herself at imaginary stormtroopers. Chopper crept into Kanan and Ezra's rooms at least once a night. Hera watched the blast doors of the Imperial Star Destroyer slam shut, penning her boys inside. Again and again and again.

Kanan was a wreck.

How many times she had coaxed him to lie down, finally sleeping alongside him just to remind him that everything was normal. As soon as his eyes closed he began flinching, torment and pain flitting across his expression before the real terrors began. Whispers for his deceased master had become destitute cries for his padawan. Over and over, until Hera feared neither of them would sleep.

Until the doors swished open – always on schedule – and a messy haired kid popped in. A twitch of Ezra's fingers on the door, uncertain if he was wanted, a nod from Hera, and before Kanan could fully wake the kid was bundled securely between them. The nightmares continued, but Kanan and Ezra seemed to reach out to one another, cushioning the worst.

The trouble came when the kid refused to leave his own bunk. On those nights, when he stared at the mural on the wall while Zeb crankily urged him to find Kanan, no one rested.

Apparently this was such a night. Hera had scarcely begun to doze when Zeb's muffled complaints drifted through the walls.

"Just get out of the bunk already!"

"Go away!" was Ezra's reply.

"Now look here, you little –"

"Stop it, Zeb! I know you're not real!"

"Oh, for the love of – fine! I've had enough of this."

"Zeb – don't – put me down!"

Thirty seconds later there was an awkward tap at the door. Hera eased from Kanan's arms and tapped the keypad, already knowing what to expect. Zeb sheepishly nodded to the kid slung over his shoulder.

"Cantankerous brat wouldn't stop shouting. Mind if I leave him with you?"

Hera waved him inside. "Guess there's always room for one more." Kanan really needed to invest in a larger bunk.

Zeb chuckled, twisting one ear self-consciously. He strolled to the bunk and tossed Ezra down, cackling at the teenager's sullen glare. "There; that'll solve the rat problem."

"S'going on?" Kanan blearily mumbled. He glanced at Ezra and grumbled something, pulling the kid close. Ezra shook his head even as he snuggled in.

"Not real."

"S'fine." Kanan yawned. "Y'can sleep it off."

"Wow, they're out already," Sabine whispered from the door. She hugged her arms, looking younger without the armor, and Hera was reminded how unprepared her crew was for the harshness of the Empire.

"What are we going to do on missions?" Sabine said dryly. The joke was too serious, even for her.

"We're not taking any missions," Hera said decisively. Not until Kanan's injuries were healed and Ezra slept through one night without waking up, dreading he was alone.

Catching Zeb and Sabine's dubious glances, Hera added, "The Fulcrum mentioned there are some nasty garden herbs to eradicate on Lothal. I think we can take some time off for a little horticulture."

"Ah, now you're talking!" Zeb chuckled. "I know a dealer in the black market who can offer us a decent flamethrower."

"No, no, no, no," Sabine said quickly. "No fires, remember? We can't be smoking out Ezra and Kanan."

"It's only dangerous if the roots are crushed first."

"No chances. We'll have to blow up the entire farm."

"Which will result in smoke, which –"

"We'll be far away before it reaches the Ghost's vents."

Hera exasperatedly shooed them out. "When you two are finished plotting, some of us would like to sleep."

"I say we harvest them all and rig them in Mustafar," Zeb suggested.

"And if Vader  _happens_  to be there, we're all barbecue," Sabine shot back.

"Well, we won't be if we do it fast!"

"Which always works perfectly seeing as …."

The door snicked shut and Hera leaned against it with a contented sigh. "One day at a time," she reminded herself.

Slogging back to Kanan's bunk, Hera flopped down beside Ezra and slung her arm over them both, trailing her fingers through Kanan's hair. Frudal flowers could go burn themselves, she thought drowsily. All that mattered was her boys were back. 


	26. Never Alone

"You're not focusing, Ezra."

Startling, Ezra shook his head and regained his meditation pose. "I got it, I got it."

"Ezra." Kanan smiled patiently, and Ezra sighed.

"I just can't…"  _Can't stop thinking about it. About everyone – dead. About you – my fault._

_About Vader._

"There's something you're not telling me," Kanan said concernedly.

"I didn't –" Ezra brusquely looked away. "It's not important." He jumped when Kanan knelt before him, squeezing his shoulder.

"You can talk to me, Ezra. That's why I'm your master."

 _Master and padawan._  The feeling was pure again. Bolstered, Ezra said in a rush, "I used the dark side while I was on Mustafar."

Kanan raised one dubious eyebrow. "Is that all?" He settled beside Ezra, mimicking his pose. "When I thought the Inquisitor had killed you, I believed I had faced my worst fears. Vader proved me wrong." Shadow flickered in Kanan's eyes. "I wanted him to experience the same agony I felt from your death. That's why I traveled to Mustafar; to find him."

"Would you have done it?" Ezra whispered.

"I don't know," Kanan admitted quietly. "That's why I warn you about your emotions. It doesn't matter how you feel, Ezra; it's how you act when your mind wants to do something wrong."

"So if I had turned to the dark side…." Ezra thought about his lost saber and the red kyber crystal. "What would you have done?"

Kanan smirked and lightly cuffed his padawan's ear. "Probably locked you in the hold until you snapped out of it."

"Just so long as Chopper wasn't guarding it." It felt so good to laugh; to know Kanan would tease him another day, and everything would be fine.

Almost everything.

"Something's still troubling you," Kanan guessed.

Ezra folded his arms and rested his chin on his knees. "While I was there…. Do you – do you think my parents were really from Lothal?"

"Do you doubt it?" Kanan said wryly. "Wasn't Sabine the one who said you smell like a Lothal sewer-rat?"

"Funny," Ezra deadpanned. He toyed with his sleeve. "But really… what if I'm not actually from Lothal? What if I was born elsewhere?"

"Is there something I should know about?"

Taking a deep breath, Ezra disclosed rapidly, "Darth Vader told me he was my father."

Silence. Flushing, Ezra looked away, knowing Kanan would see the truth and realize he was training the wrong apprentice. It was only destiny for a son to become like his father.

"He told you  _that?_ " Kanan said at length. Incredulously he ruffled Ezra's hair. "And you believed him?"

"Why else would he train me?" Ezra exclaimed. "He explained everything! Who my mother was, why I was taken to Lothal, my heritage –"

"Whoa, whoa! Kid! Calm down!" Kanan was … smirking?

"This isn't funny!"

"I know." Immediately the Jedi sobered. "I know, Ezra. None of this is funny. I just don't see why you would think a bucket of spare parts could be your father."

"He showed me visions of his past," Ezra said. "I think he was a Jedi."

Kanan's brow furrowed. "A Jedi?" He was silent a while longer. Finally he shrugged and said, "Well, I still don't know where he conjured the family resemblance. I saw the picture Sabine dug up, and you obviously have your mother's nose." He tweaked Ezra's nose and Ezra batted him away, nostalgic for past bantering.

"What if it was true," Ezra asked uncertainly. "What if Darth Vader is my father?"

Kanan rotated one shoulder uncomfortably. "I don't care whose kid you are. It's what you become that matters to me."

Enlightened, Ezra turned the words in his mind, envisioning Mustafar, the Jedi with the blue lightsaber, and the dark haired woman he had never seen.  _It doesn't matter whose kid you are … It's what you become that matters._

Maybe he was the son of a Sith Lord. Maybe he was destined to be Vader's apprentice. But destiny could change. He could still be a Jedi, just like Kanan.

_You are alone._

_Not anymore,_  he shot back.

As long as Kanan believed in him, Ezra wasn't afraid of anything.

Logic whispered that Darth Vader could claim him at any time.

The Force told him to trust his master.

Hope reminded him that there were always new beginnings.

Loyalty assured him that he would never be alone again.

* * *

On the bridge of an Imperial Star Destroyer, a Sith lord paced. A misfortunate mouse droid squiggled up to his feet, then zipped away with a squeal. The nearby lieutenant swallowed. The Inquisitor's temper had been deadly after Tarkin's visit to Lothal. Darth Vader was renowned for disposing of incompetent officers.

This would have been the perfect day for a demotion to cleaning the refreshers.

The lieutenant nearly gasped his relief when Agent – Inquisitor – (was it Commander now?) – Kallus stalked onto the bridge. At last, someone else to bear the consequences of Lord Vader's disappointment.

"Lord Va –"

"You deliberately allowed the prisoners to escape."

"They boarded without warning, our systems were rigged by  _your_  interference –"

"I did not ask for excuses,  _Commander_."

The lieutenant coolly looked away. Kallus did have an obnoxious habit of crinkling those leather gloves.

"We have intersected their ship before," Kallus said gratingly. "I shall track the rebels and –"

"Your ineptitude has interfered with my plans for the last time. If not for the Emperor's confidence in your trifling skills, you would never have stayed above lieutenant. You will return to the Lothal planet, where you will tend the matters of state and law, and should I hear that any rebel escaped again, you will answer to me personally."

"Understood, Lord Vader."

If Kallus wore out his teeth as much as that fine leather…. The lieutenant had a new theory for the betting pool on "Why the higher officers never smile properly."

"Dismissed,  _Commander_." Cape furling dramatically, Darth Vader paced to the window. The lieutenant sighed in relief.

"Lieutenant."

Jolting, he saluted sharply and approached. "Yes, Lord Vader?"

"Send a transmission to the Lothal bioweapons facility, to begin construction immediately."

"Yes, my lord."

Reprieved. As quickly as deliberation would allow, the lieutenant fled the bridge. Someone else could die for the glory of the Empire. He was going to demand 'fresher duty tomorrow.

* * *

_My son…._

Even now Ezra skirted from him, clinging to the Jedi would never replace his blood family. Darth Vader reached across the stars and brushed the uncertain mind.

_Ezra._

_Go away…_  came the faint answer.

He withdrew, but only for a time. In the months to come, Ezra would accept that denial was futile; that his path was inevitably linked to the father who protected him from the Emperor. Should Palpatine decide Ezra Skywalker was immovable, the boy would discover he had more to lose than his master. Until then, he would be hidden, drawn to Vader's side until father and son stood together against the Emperor. Darth Sidious would fall, and a new order would control the galaxy.

Then Vader would establish the peace Padme had always wanted.

Through Plagueis' teachings, her son would rule forever.

* * *

** Special recognition to skywalker05 on fanfiction.net, for letting me use the "Vader's son" idea from the Rebels fic "Discovery". **


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